


When All I Want To Do Is Smile

by nubianamy



Category: Glee
Genre: Exhibitionism, Friendship, High School, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Experimentation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck's unusual habits draw Finn's attention. Puck/Finn, spoilers through season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather embarrassing homage to a fanfiction author who first inspired me with her writing over a decade ago. She co-wrote a super-fluffy, super-sexy Sentinel story with Bone titled "Out of Whack," which as you can probably guess was about masturbation (http://www.mrks.org/~bone/sentinel/whack/outofwhack_1.html). Sentinel was one of those fandoms I read but never watched, but the Jim/Blair pairing is still as close to an OTP as I would ever care to find. She's written a ton of other things, and everything I've read has made me squee and go awww and often say wow and other onomatopoeic expressions. So, even though you have no idea who I am, a tip of the hat to the Cimmerians for many years of great fic; I wish you many more.
> 
> This is set around the time of episode 2.19 Rumours. Warnings for masturbation, but will devolve into two-person smut at some point. Enjoy! 
> 
> -amy

Puck discovered his favorite kink entirely by accident during junior year. Lauren was awesome, no doubt, and he was willing to do a lot to be with her, but she wasn't any closer to letting him touch those amazing jugs of hers than he had been four months ago. He'd never had a problem with jacking off, but now, it was almost a couple-times daily requirement for him to be able to get through his day. Once in the morning and once before bed, sure, but more often than not he had to duck into the bathroom to take care of things in the middle of the day.

So there he was, after lunch, jeans around his ankles, perched on the edge of the toilet seat, running through his old standby fantasies -  _Quinn bending over to get something in her Cheerios skirt with no panties on,_ or sometimes  _topless Santana and the football team circle jerk -_ and waiting for the guy in the stall next to him to leave so he could finish. He could do it silently when he had to, but it was hard to disguise his breathing, and sometimes there were noises he couldn't conceal.

The toilet flushed, followed by the water running in the sink, the door opening, closing, and finally silence. Puck let go of the quiet groan he'd been holding onto, and spit into his hand, letting the unsubtle wet noises of his hand on his cock echo freely in the men's room.

He was well on his way to finishing when he heard somebody clear his throat.

Puck froze, listening, his cheeks heating up.  _Fuck._  He'd been sure nobody had been left to hear him. Whatever guy was still in the men's john, he'd been quiet enough for Puck to miss his presence. Probably he was reading a skin mag and doing the same thing Puck was, down in the end stall. He bent down to see if he could catch a glimpse of the guy's shoes, but there was nothing.

Now he had to decide if he was going to give it up, or if he would try to finish anyway before the first bell rang for American history. He was close enough to a conclusion to feel like dealing with a woody in class would be worse than attempting to jack off with this anonymous guy listening. Puck gave himself a tentative squeeze, wondering who the guy was. Wondering what he'd heard.

Maybe he was getting off on it. The idea was kind of hot. Puck absently licked his palm again, bringing it back to slick up the head of his cock. His breath hitched a little, and he swallowed the noise he could have made, listening for more indications about what this guy was doing. He thought he heard some shuffling noises, but they were indistinct.

Puck decided the guy was sitting in the last booth, in much the same position as Puck himself was, and... he'd gotten turned on. Yeah, that was what had happened. The guy had come to take a dump and gotten hard, and then he'd heard - Puck picked up his pace, unexpectedly spurred to stroke faster - and he'd been stuck there, too embarrassed to do anything. And he'd made that little throat-clearing noise, and now... now he was sitting there, hard as a rock, wondering what to do. Puck ran his other hand over his balls, feeling the tension build. The image was so clear, the guy sitting there, listening, while Puck did - what he was doing - and  _fuck_  that was hot -

His climax was sudden and explosive, and Puck gave a little forced exhalation of breath, just a little  _uhhh,_  as he coated his hand. Seconds later, still breathing hard, Puck heard a toilet flush, the door bang open, and quick footsteps head out the door.

When his head cleared, he wiped his hand and his cock off on some toilet paper, knowing he'd probably be late for history, but not really caring. There was no pretending he didn't know what had just happened: he'd just gotten off, really hard, to the idea of an anonymous guy listening to him masturbate.

It was a little weird, okay, but Puck could deal with weird. And - maybe a little gay, but not exactly, since he'd been the only one touching himself. He could deal with not exactly, too. Mostly he'd been totally wowed with how hard he had come, and he'd go through a lot of weird-and-not-exactly if he got to do  _that_ again.

The question was, what could he do to get somebody to accidentally show up in the bathroom, alone, sit down in the stall next to him, and stay long enough for him to get off?

Puck thought about it for a couple days, but it didn't take long before he hit on an idea. Because, dude, he was the  _king_  of ideas... and this one turned out to be one that actually seemed to work. It was dependent on Puck's social standing as a badass, so he decided he could only use it as long as he was still on top of the heap. It also counted on most high school guys being sexually repressed, a little homophobic, and as desperate to get off as he was.

He made a kind of game out of it. Puck started by choosing a potential target in one of his classes, somebody quiet and unassuming, who appeared to be scared of him. There seemed to be an endless supply of these. He'd pull up a seat next to him. Then he would lean back casually in his seat, letting his legs loll open, so the guy would get a good look at the Puckasaurus. He knew he had a big dick, there was no mistaking that, and when he was even a little hard (as he'd inevitably be by this point), he knew what was in his pants wasn't subtle. If the guy was even a little bit interested, Puck would be able to tell by the way he was looking - or, to be more specific,  _not_  looking.

Puck's usual next move was to let the guy stew a little. He'd stretch, roll his hips a little, nothing too obvious, and watch the guy's reaction. If he was still  _not_  looking, Puck would drop his fingers to rest on his cock, just briefly. If he got a good reaction - a blush, or maybe an uncomfortable glance away, or best of all, the guy adjusting himself in his jeans - that was enough to get Puck out of his seat asking for a hall pass to use the bathroom.

Then he'd walk to the nearest john and find an empty stall, locking the door behind him. They were usually empty during class, so if Puck heard the door open and close, he had a pretty good bet it was the guy, following him. Puck would make a little noise, something innocuous, so the guy would know where he was. If the guy tried to open Puck's stall door, he'd find it locked, because Puck sure as shit wasn't going to do anything  _with_  him. But by this time Puck would be totally turned on, and he'd start in, wet and hot, and listen for the guy's reaction.

He felt a tiny bit guilty about leading these guys on, making them think he was gonna give them a blowjob or something, instead of just wanting them to listen to him get off. But he wasn't guilty enough to worry about it, and sure as hell wasn't guilty enough to stop doing it. Because, dude: nothing made him come like he did when he  _knew_ there was a guy on the other side of the stall, listening.

The usual reaction, the one Puck mostly counted on, was silent embarrassment, but even then, they seldom left in the middle of things. Puck thought this was interesting: guys thought it was hot enough to listen, but not hot enough to stick around afterwards. It still turned him on just as much, knowing somebody was there, even if they didn't do anything about it.

Every now and then, the guy would listen for a little while, and then join in. Usually it was really obvious when he did this; maybe the guys took their cue from Puck that, if he was kind of loud, they could be loud too. Maybe they were gay and maybe they weren't; Puck didn't care. He'd get off, and sometimes they would too, and inevitably they'd be gone before Puck zipped up and came out to wash his hands.

But of course, then Puck would know who the guy was, and the guy would  _know_  he knew. After a few weeks of doing this, he'd identified a couple guys in each class who he could count on to follow him into the john, to listen while he jacked off, then make themselves scarce. Puck was more than a little smug about this. Of course nobody was going to say anything. He was way too fucking terrifying for anybody to accuse him of doing what he was doing, or of being anything that sounded like "fag."

Once he'd discovered this kink, he started exploiting it. On days when he jacked off at school, he sometimes didn't at home that night or the next morning, just so he could do it again the next day. But he couldn't count on the game being successful every time. Maybe his target would be absent; maybe they'd have a bad day and not respond to his move. Maybe, as sometimes happened with untried targets, they'd walk out in the middle of things, and Puck would have to be satisfied with his almost-always-now fantasy of there being a secret silent guy at the end of the row, jacking off silently in tandem with him.

Oddly enough, even when he knew who the guy really was on the other side of the stall door, he never gave him a face in his imagination. He didn't care that Felix or Roy or Warren were listening, because he didn't give two shits about any of those guys. He was totally using them for what they were doing for him, and for that, all they needed was a pair of working ears.

Sometimes he wondered if it would be hotter if it were girls listening to him. The idea was hard to conceptualize. He wasn't even sure if most girls jacked off, or whatever they called it. In any case, the question was irrelevant; he wasn't about to go hide in the girls' bathroom and expect not to get noticed. His game seemed to be working just fine.

Until, one day, it failed spectacularly.

It happened in the middle of Spanish class. After he got back from juvie, he'd focused entirely on making up his lost work, and Finn had been there to help him. Once he'd caught up far enough to pass, though, he decided he could get back to the game. The guys he'd terrified earlier in the year had either built up their resolve or found girlfriends, so he was testing out the waters with a new transfer student whose name he didn't even know. He nudged Finn's backpack out of the way on his left and stretched his leg out a little wider, turning toward this guy on his right, giving him a good look.

The guy seemed pretty comfortable letting his eyes rest on Puck's torso, on the way he filled out his jeans, before flickering his eyes back to his own paper. Puck didn't let his grin show, but instead dropped his hand to his hip. He let his hand dip down between his legs, once, just a casual gesture, but it was enough to let the guy know what he was thinking. The guy watched him out of the corner of his eye; he definitely was of the look-too-much rather than the look-too-little variety. Puck stood up.

" _Perdone, Señor Schue,"_ he said, raising his hand a little.  _"Puedo ir al baño?"_

Mr. Schue sighed. " _Diez minutos, Puck."_ He held out two hands, as if Puck wouldn't know  _diez_  or something. Okay, so maybe he'd developed a reputation for long bathroom breaks; so the fuck what. He gave Schue a little salute on his way out the door, already anticipating what he was about to do.

The bathroom across the hall was empty - he'd learned to sweep the bathroom to be certain, now - and he moved into the center stall, locking it securely. He'd already dropped his jeans and shorts to the floor and seated himself on the edge of the toilet when he heard the door swing open and closed again.  _Bingo,_  he thought, gripping his cock.

He made his signature foot-shuffling noise, which he'd discovered was enough to signal his presence without tipping the guy off he was paying attention. Just having him on the other side of the door, standing out there, uncertain, was enough to make Puck groan and speed up his strokes - although he kept the groan very, very quiet.

He heard the other guy approach the center stall, opening the door on either side of Puck. The footfalls paused next to Puck's stall, and the guy tested the lock. Puck grinned to himself; he'd kind of expected this new guy to play for that particular team. Now he was almost guaranteed to have an uncertain  _turned-on_  guy outside his -

"Puck," a voice said quietly. A voice he knew pretty damn fucking well.

_Finn._

He didn't exactly freeze as much as seize up, clutching himself tighter. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stopped five seconds from coming, but he couldn't really think of a way to explain to Finn what was going on here if he did that. Maybe, if he held really still, Finn would think he'd made a mistake, that Puck wasn't actually -

"Dude." Finn sighed. "I can see your shoes. Just... finish up and meet me in the alcove outside the choir room, okay?" He paused. "Okay?"

"... okay," Puck said slowly, and Finn turned and left.

Puck listened to the sounds of his own breathing for a few seconds after Finn's noises were gone. He had no idea what Finn was going to say to him, or what he was going to say back. It wasn't like Finn would be surprised by the idea of Puck jacking off; they'd been friends for way too long for that to be a question. But he did seem to be upset. Maybe... maybe he was freaking out about something he'd heard. He'd heard... heard Puck. Stayed to listen.

" _Fuck,"_  he whimpered. The rush of arousal he felt inspired ten seconds of furious jerking, followed by a climax so intense it made his head swim.

It had been Finn on the other side of that door, listening, feeling uncertain and maybe a little turned on. Finn, who'd known it was him, because he could see his shoes, but had paused long enough to listen anyway.

He took his time cleaning up, but even after he'd washed his hands twice and inspected his jeans and t-shirt ensemble in the mirror three times, he still had fifteen minutes of Spanish left. No way to avoid Finn. Unless he just didn't show up outside the choir room, but that would be a sucky thing to do to his best friend, no matter how fucking embarrassed he was.

Puck sighed, gave his head a little angry shake, and made his determined way down to the drama wing. Finn was there waiting for him, knees up, slouched against the wall. He was staring intently at his hands, but when Puck sat down across from him, he looked up.

"Hey." He didn't look any more comfortable than Puck felt.

"Dude," said Puck. "You know everything about me, even the weird stuff. Since I was nine. This doesn't have to be a big -"

"Just - shut up, okay?" Finn didn't look upset, just tense, and Puck didn't even bother to glare at him; he simply stopped talking and waited.

Finn wound his fingers around each other, tugging, knotting and unknotting them, and Puck was  _not_  looking at Finn's fingers and thinking about  _anything._

"The guys," said Finn. "I heard them talking. More than a couple of them. About... you. About the things you were doing. With... other guys."

Puck frowned. "I'm not doing  _anything_  with guys, dude."

"Yeah, well, that's not the way the rumor's getting spread. You and Warren in the men's room? It was pretty obvious."

He wanted to defend himself, to say  _what was obvious?_  But if it was obvious to Finn, who was giving him this wounded look like Puck had kicked his dog or something, then it must be  _really_ fucking obvious. He tried logic. "Don't you think I'd tell you if I was doing anything with guys? You've heard about everything else I've ever done."

Finn redirected his gaze to the tile. "Puck, I  _watched_ you. In Spanish. You practically seduced poor Mark there. He totally would have followed you into the bathroom if I hadn't asked Mr. Schue for the last hall pass."

So that was his name. "I'm telling you, Finn, I wouldn't have done anything with Mark. I'm not into guys."

Now Finn's brow furrowed, concentrating hard; he was desperately trying to figure out this problem, but it clearly wasn't making any sense to him. "If you're not, then how do you explain the thing with Warren? Or Felix, or -"

Puck shook his head, laughing a little. "Jesus. You're not just listening to gossip, you're reading its fucking diary."

"Puck, this is a  _big deal,_ okay?" Finn said, loud enough to make the echo ring in the empty hallway. He dropped his voice. "Everybody at school thinks you're a fag. And you're telling me you're not, but I  _saw_  what you did with Mark, and - and I need you to realize that whatever's actually going on, that's really what it looks like. To everybody, and... to me."

"You think I'm a fag?" Puck uncrossed and recrossed his legs, wrestling with how to respond. Even an hour earlier, it would have been easy to explain his kink to Finn, to shrug at the not-exactly-gay overtones, and remind him about all the girls he'd happily banged, including no fewer than three of Finn's own girlfriends. But now, he found himself with this  _new_  aspect to his kink, one in which he'd taken his faceless listener and replaced him with  _Finn._  He had a hard time putting the not-exactly-gay spin on that.

"Well, you're telling me you're not," said Finn. "So I guess I have to believe you, huh? But, Puck... whatever it is you're doing... it's putting your reputation at risk. Trust me, I hear about what Kurt goes through every day at school, and you don't want that." There went those fingers again, making macrame of one another. "Can't you... I don't know, tone it down?"

Puck wrestled with this question for long enough that Finn finally burst out, "What  _were_  you doing with those guys in the bathroom?"

"You really want to know?"

He watched Finn's pupils relax. Wherever Finn's imagination was going, it involved a hell of a lot more stuff than Puck had ever  _actually_  done with guys. It was unnerving, in a way, to realize Finn was just another guy in this equation - that Puck could have lured him into the game just as easily as any of the other guys. That Finn was just as homophobic and desperate to get off as anybody else. He leaned in a fraction, watching Finn follow suit.

"Probably not," Finn admitted. "But If I'm gonna help you get out of this one, you'd better tell me all of it. Otherwise, you might as well sign up for another round of daily slushies and public humiliation."

"Dude." Puck stared at him, astonished. "You don't have to take a hit for me. It's not your fight."

Finn gazed back with a faint smile. "Last I heard, that's what best friends do for each other. You had Kurt's back when he came home from Dalton. It's not so different. So... come on; I know you're going to embarrass the crap out of me, so you might as well get it over with before the bell rings."

Puck grinned, hesitating only a little before saying, "Yeah, okay, so... I'm a dude, and I've got needs, right? And sometimes I've got needs during school. What the fuck, no big deal, I go in the john, take care of it, go on with my day. You with me so far?"

Finn nodded, his face already red, but he was grimly staying focused. "Yeah, of course."

"So one time I realized there was this guy in the john with me, like, on accident? And I didn't realize he was listening until it was kind of... too late." He shrugged. "But the thing is, it was hot. Like,  _really_  hot. It didn't even matter who'd been listening, just... knowing someone was."

Finn's expression had transformed into something Puck couldn't quite read. "And it has to be... a guy?"

"I don't know," said Puck. "Never had girls listen to me do that. I'm sure that'd be even hotter, huh?"

Only now, he wasn't at all sure. Now he was trying not to pay attention to the images in his head of Finn, listening to him get off. Staying, and knowing it was him, and listening, and he  _wasn't_  going to get hard again.

"So the guys are just... convenient?" Finn sounded almost amused. Puck felt himself blush, smiling back.

"Must be."

Finn nodded slowly, staring at a point over Puck's shoulder. "We should probably go back and get our books from Spanish before Glee."

They scrambled up from the floor, Puck somewhat more gracefully than Finn. "I'm always late anyway. I can get all of our stuff."

"It's okay. I'll walk with you. I guess I need a minute to think about... all of it."

Puck tried not to be anxious about Finn's sober, reflective mood as they made their way back down the empty hallway to Mr. Schue's classroom. He was still thinking when they got there. Puck made a move to head back into Spanish, but Finn stopped him.

"All right," he said. "So your goal here... it's not specific, to... any particular person. It could be anybody. Right?"

"Right," Puck said uneasily. It had been true until an hour ago. Close enough, anyway.

They were alone in the hall, but Finn lowered his voice to a murmur anyway. "I don't think you should do that thing anymore. With... the guys."

"Okay." He watched Finn's face for some clue as to where this was going. Finn sighed.

"You're kind of using them, aren't you? And, dude. Whatever they're looking for, it's not the same thing you're looking for." He frowned. "And I'm a little creeped out by the idea that there are so many guys in this school who want to follow you into the bathroom, but... whatever. You're getting a reputation for... something. Something you don't want."

"Okay," he said again. "Can you get to the -"

"I'm getting there. Jesus." Finn ran a hand over his neck. "You need to ask somebody to do this. Somebody who knows what they're doing and why, and can say sure, that's fine with me."

Puck thought about this. "I need to ask... who? You really think Warren, or Felix, or that guy Mark would say  _sure, I'll stand on the other side of this stall while you jack off?"_

"No, dude," he said angrily. "Somebody you trust. Those guys don't give a shit about you."

"No, and I don't give a shit about them. So what?"

"So you're gonna find yourself in a bad situation," Finn hissed. "One where you think you've got it covered, but when you walk out of the bathroom, four guys are gonna be waiting to beat the crap out of you."

Puck flexed his guns. "Whatever. I could take them."

The bell rang, but Finn didn't move from his spot on the wall, not even when people started to flood past him into the hallway. His eyes were fixed on Puck's. "Find somebody who can back you up, if things get weird."

_It's already weird, Finn. We passed weird four months ago when I started this game._ "Yeah? Who the hell would do that for me?"

"I would," said Finn.

Puck stared at Finn as he pushed past his shoulder on his way back into the Spanish classroom. He watched while Finn gathered up both of their backpacks and books and stopped at Mr. Schue's desk. Then he was back again, shoving Puck's backpack into his hands.

"You?" Puck said in disbelief. Finn scowled.

"Yeah. You said yourself it didn't matter who it was. Might as well be me. I'm not going to spread any rumors, and I can watch, uh. Watch out for you."

Puck was speechless all the way to Glee. Finn took a seat next to Quinn, and Puck found a seat by himself on the other side of the room. They were halfway through rehearsal before he realized he hadn't heard anything Mr. Schue had said, or even noticed which songs they'd been singing. He just kept thinking about Finn, saying  _You're kind of using them, aren't you?_

When class was dismissed, he stood warily nearby, watching as Finn talked Quinn and kissed her goodbye. He imagined how Quinn would have responded if he'd told her his story. She probably would have reported him to Figgins, or at the very least called him a pervert. There was no way she would have agreed to participate in something like this, much less offered. Finn hadn't called him a pervert, even though he probably was. Finn had just listened, and decided he wanted to help. Because he was a good guy. A good friend.

"I can't," he said, when Finn was the only one left in the choir room. Finn regarded him.

"Why not?"

"Because, dude, it's like you said. I was totally using them. And..." He shook his head. "I can't use  _you._  You're my best friend."

"I'm pretty sure it's not using me if I'm the one offering," Finn said mildly. He picked up his backpack. "Come on."

"Where're we going?" Puck asked, following him into the hallway.

"I bet there's an empty bathroom somewhere around here. You're going to give this a try."

"Hey!" Puck felt a surge of annoyance, but it was on the heels of a much more intense sensation, one that threatened to knock him over. His vision greyed out for a second, and he stopped walking.

Finn gave him a lopsided grin. "Don't tell me you can't do it again."

Puck could. He wondered if Finn could tell just how turned on he was already - had been, really, since they'd begin this whole weird conversation an hour ago. He glared at him. "I'm seventeen. What do you think?"

"Yeah, trust me, I know how it is. So... empty bathroom. You can discover for yourself if it's too weird. If it is, you come up with a different plan. And if it's not... we'll figure it out."

Puck had no idea at what point the situation had been yanked out of his control, but at that moment, all he could do was hold on and go along with it. "I guess?"

"Don't worry about it, man." Finn didn't touch him, but his smile was warm and calm, and Puck felt better. He nodded at the men's room door. "Try this one?"

The bathroom wasn't quite empty, but Puck locked himself in a stall anyway, while Finn washed his hands. When the remaining guy had left, Finn said softly, "Okay. All clear."

Puck bit back an hysterical laugh at the scenario, but he undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. The sound was loud in the empty bathroom. He listened for Finn's breathing, but there wasn't any to be heard.

"I'm... I'll just..." Puck bit his lip, considering his erection before him. "I might, uh, make some noise."

Finn sighed. "Do whatever it is you do, okay? I'm not here to judge."

Finn's voice was coming from his right. When he looked under the stall, he could see Finn's gym shoes pointing in the opposite direction, facing the door.  _Watching out for me,_  he thought. It wasn't unappealing. But this was  _Finn,_  and he was going to stand there, and listen while Puck - while he -

With an echoing sigh, Puck took his cock in his hand and began stroking, watching those white gym shoes standing on the other side of the wall. Finn, listening.  _God._ He'd been certain he wouldn't be able to do this, that he'd never be able to stay hard with this particular audience, but the opposite seemed to be true. What was driving him  _was_  Finn's presence. Puck wanted him to hear - to know. He let out a small sound, just a breath. There was no response. Finn was still there.

The friction was a little intense, so soon after finishing the last round, but he carefully licked his palm and made it slick. And now he didn't have to worry about the telltale noises, or about anybody walking in, because Finn was there. Listening. He whimpered a little.

"Not too weird?" he dared to ask.

Finn's chuckle was low and placid. "Nah," he said complacently. "I'm fine."

Puck closed his eyes, grasping with his imagination for some familiar fantasy, something to take him out of this bizarre situation, but all he could see was Finn's legs on the other side of the stall. He wondered if Finn were getting turned on by this, because it sure as hell was doing it for him. He pictured Finn sitting the way he himself had done so many times, slouched in his chair, knees spread, running a casual hand over his own barely-contained cock through his shorts. Puck had seen him naked enough times to know that Finn wasn't lacking anything in the size department, either. Just that one move, over and over, accompanied by Finn's lazy grin, was enough to take him most of the way there.

"Um," said Finn. Puck's hand stilled for a moment, then he continued, unwilling to slow his forward momentum. "Everything... okay in there?"

"Yeah." The words was meant to be a simple response, but it came out in an embarrassingly pleading groan. He winced. "Fine."

"You just... I mean, you said  _noises,_  but..." Finn sounded perplexed. "I haven't heard anything at all. I'm pretty sure I couldn't be that quiet if I were -"

"Long practice," he panted. "Can you shut up, I'm trying to concentrate here?"

But really, it was that he couldn't quite accept what Finn's voice was doing to him.  _He's telling me he's loud,_  he thought desperately.  _He's loud when he jacks off. Finn._  Puck spread his legs a little wider, leaning into his hand, for once not curtailing his breathing or worrying about the slippery noises. Was Finn telling him he  _wanted_  to hear the noises?

"Sorry," said Finn quickly. "Shutting up now."

Puck let out a laugh, letting his hands go slack and his head hang between his shoulders. "Fuck. This is totally stupid. I have no idea why I let you talk me into doing -"

"Puck."

He bit off his diatribe at Finn's soft word.  _Now_  he could hear Finn's breathing, closer than before, mingling with his own.

"I can go, if you want. But the whole point was... for this to be hot, right? You want this?"

Puck took a deep breath, let it out, then did it again. "I - yeah, I guess?"

"So stop holding back. It's stupid. I told you, I'm not gonna judge you."

"No?" He felt suddenly, absurdly close to Finn, considering there was a wall between them. With the knuckles of his right hand, he reached out and touched the peeling yellow paint.

"Yeah. And since when do you care what anybody thinks about anything when it comes to sex? You're fearless, man."

_Not right now,_  he wanted to say.  _Right now I'm sitting here with my dick in my hand, with my best friend less than a foot away, and it's kind of freaking me out._ He tried to keep breathing normally, but even that felt like a challenge.

"It's not a performance. You don't have to be anything. Just relax." Finn sounded so fucking calm.

"Relax," he muttered, shaking his head. "I think you're going to have to stop talking for this to work. Otherwise I get thinking, and... it's just too much thinking. This isn't supposed to be about thinking."

"Okay," said Finn.

That was all Puck heard from Finn for the next five minutes. By then, he'd regained nearly all of his lost ground, walking back through his most reliable fantasies about the guy in the stall at the end. Although if there was a guy there, Finn would probably have said something. He gave a frustrated huff. It seemed that all of his old standbys involving the anonymous guy listening were suspect, because the guy listening was  _Finn,_  and it just complicated everything.

_Stop holding back,_  Finn had said.  _I'm not going to judge you._  Well, if this was supposed to be a test case, so he'd better well fucking test it. Okay, so what if Finn was getting a little turned on by listening to Puck jack off, like the rest of the probably-straight guys who'd followed him into the bathroom? Maybe... he might - Puck let out a soft groan - go in one of the empty stalls, and lock himself in, and -

God, what was he  _thinking?_  Finn wouldn't do that, because he'd said he would stay out there and look out for Puck. He'd never put his own desires ahead of a promise, no matter how turned on he was. Finn would probably never jerk off at school, period.

"Um," said Finn, hesitantly, "I know I said I wouldn't talk - but this, it might help. I was thinking -"

"Finn," Puck said through gritted teeth.

"No, just, if you want me to listen, dude, you'll have to text me or something. And we should only do it in the middle of the classes we don't share, to avoid attention? So you tell me where you are, and I'll come meet you there, and... we can do this."

_Oh fuck oh,_  he thought helplessly.  _We're doing this. This isn't an accidental thing, it's... an arranged thing. With talking._  It was both the biggest buzz-kill and the biggest turn-on at the same time, and Puck made a couple of really embarrassing whining noises before getting hit by another one of those monster orgasms. He stifled most of it, but there was no way Finn wasn't going to know what had happened.

Finn cleared his throat. "Does that sound okay?"

And  _now_  Puck froze, his heavy-lidded eyes flying open in shock. Because that little throat-clearing noise - that was one he remembered. Remembered very clearly, from his very first experience in the bathroom, months ago.  _Finn. He'd been the guy listening, who hadn't said anything. Finn._ Who apparently was going to be the one listening from now on, both in his heretofore anonymous fantasies, and in  _real life._

Finn was still waiting for him to say something. Puck swallowed on a dry throat.

"Okay," was all he could say. Even  _thanks_  got stuck, because how the hell did you thank somebody for something like this?

"Well... I guess I should get going." Finn turned, facing the stall, and moved forward a few steps before turning around and heading for the door. "I'm going to go ahead and let you... get cleaned up and stuff. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait," he said.

Finn's footfalls stopped. Puck quickly wiped off his hand, tucked himself back in and flushed the john - for no reason, but it had been a part of his cover for too long to stop himself. He zipped up his jeans and opened the stall door. Finn was standing there, looking a little stunned. His cheeks were red, just as Puck's were.  _You can do this._

"You... really didn't have to do... this," said Puck. "And you totally don't need to ever do it again. I'm not saying, no, I'm just telling you, so you won't feel obligated or something. Ever. But, um..." He looked away, trying not to stutter. "That worked for me."

Finn's grin looked relieved. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm not telling anybody about this, but... thanks. For reminding me I can tell you anything."

The grin faltered just a moment, too brief for Puck to think it meant anything. "Of course," Finn said. "Totally."

They stood there facing one another for another five supremely awkward seconds before Puck decided to let Finn off the hook. He turned the faucet on in the sink and began to wash his hands. "See you tomorrow," he said.

"See you," said Finn, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a tiny bit of plot might have snuck in here, but it's just to carry the smut, folks. Thanks to Mark Bernstein for the musical puns.  
> -amy

That afternoon in the john didn't change Puck's life. Finn didn't bring up anything they'd done, so Puck figured he might be able to get away with not talking about it. It would just be easier if he didn't have to deal with it at all. For about a week, he was vigilant about jacking off in the evening and morning to stave off daytime urges. That seemed to work reasonably well.

Finn also didn't report any further threats from or gossip among the guys, which seemed like a good sign. A couple of the guys he'd been luring to the bathroom seemed confused and maybe even a little hurt by Puck's cessation of activity, but like he'd told Finn, he didn't give a shit about them, and eventually they stopped giving him puppy-dog eyes and left him alone.

Unfortunately, things with Finn stayed complicated. They had three classes together, so it wasn't like Puck could avoid him all the time, and Glee and sports threw them together even more often. The stress of that situation, combined with Lauren's continued insistence on not putting out, not to mention Puck's preference for sleeping in mornings rather than waking up to jack off, often left him worked up and frustrated in the middle of the day. Plus, Puck now seemed to have an inextricable connection between school bathrooms and getting off that made it hard for him to take a leak at school at all.

So it wasn't too many days later that Puck found himself raising his hand in the middle of geometry, asking for a hall pass to use the bathroom. He tried to ignore Felix's hopeful expression as he walked out the door. Before he even made it to the door of the restroom, his phone was in his hands.

Then he spent thirty seconds figuring out what to say, which was clearly a waste of fucking time, but... this wasn't an ordinary proposition. And the first time - well, second time, or technically the third time - was bound to be awkward. Finally he decided on:  _In the john by the trophy case._

By the time Puck had dropped trou and settled on the edge of the toilet seat in the middle stall, he had a reply that made his stomach clench:  _On my way._

Less than thirty seconds later, he heard the door open. Finn's sneakers appeared beside the stall and paused long enough for Puck to know he was standing there intentionally, and  _damn_  that made him hard. Puck didn't even wait for Finn's whispered "All clear" to begin.

The week before had clearly been just a trial run, but today was the real thing. Puck could feel the tension dripping off him. Finn, on the other hand, remained cool. Puck had had no idea he would experience such a drenching feeling of relief to have him there, like that.  _Finn's taking care of it,_  he thought, in a haze of adrenaline and hormones.

This time, Finn didn't say anything to him. He simply stood there silently, listening, just as he'd promised he would do, even when Puck let himself get loud at the end. He waited for a few minutes longer afterwards, until Puck emerged from the stall, avoiding Finn's eyes.

"You really don't have to stick around after," he said, turning on the faucet.

Finn shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

He shot him a look. "You think I'm gonna freak out or something?"

"Maybe." Finn gazed at the floor for a moment. Then he grinned. "You gotta admit, this is pretty fucked up."

"Heh." Puck couldn't keep from grinning back. "If anybody would freak out, I'd think it would be you."

Finn grinned wider. "Well, I'm not."

Puck shut off the water and dried his hands. He shook his head, chuckling. "God. You're such a fucking dork."

"Oh, yeah?" Finn leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. "You really want to go there?"

Puck made a two-point basket into the trash can with the wadded-up paper towel without taking his eyes off Finn. "Yeah. Because I can't think of any goddamn reason why you'd do any of this shit. And don't tell me it's about protecting me from Rick and Azimio. You know exactly the kind of heat you'd take if somebody caught you."

"Doing what? Using the bathroom? You're the one taking the risk here." Finn reached out and nudged him on the shoulder. "You just can't believe you're worth somebody sticking their neck out for you?"

_Not for my stupid libido,_  Puck thought, but he just glared back at Finn. He wasn't going to push him back. He wasn't going to touch him at all. And Finn was still grinning.

"My choice." He didn't get any closer, but Puck took a step back anyway. Finn's voice got soft. "Let me be the one to decide if I can handle it or not, okay?"

"You're an idiot," he muttered, but there wasn't any force behind it.

Finn nodded and turned, heading for the door. "Better get back to math. You really don't need any more absences."

* * *

The next time, Puck texted Finn in the middle of shop, after he'd finished his picture frame with spline joints ahead of schedule. Bored usually translated into horny for Puck. He hid his phone under the workbench.  _Bad time?_

_Got to finish my quiz,_  Finn responded.  _10 min?_

Puck shifted restlessly in his seat for a couple of minutes before he gave up and went up to get the hall pass from Mr. Parker. Then, when he tried the closest bathroom, there was a guy in there having a colossally smelly dump. Really, there was nothing less sexy than the smell of shit. Puck sighed and tried the restroom on the second floor near Finn's biology classroom. The middle stall was occupied, but he figured he could wait him out.

It didn't occur to Puck, until after he'd texted Finn to tell him where he was, that there was no reason for him to  _have_  to wait. Here he was, conveniently anonymous, sitting two feet from another anonymous guy. He could start any time. This guy could listen as well as anyone else.

Any time now.

He was still waiting three minutes later when the guy left. Finn didn't arrive until two more had passed, and Puck was still sitting there, stymied by his own inaction - until he saw Finn's shoes pause outside his stall.

His phone buzzed. Puck jumped a little, tearing his eyes away from Finn's shoes, to read the words:  _I'm here now._

And suddenly his hand was on his zipper, and he was scrambling to get his jeans off, because there'd been too much waiting, too many distractions, and  _Finn was here now,_  and for whatever reason his brain translated that to  _time to get off, immediately._

Puck's phone clattered to the floor, but he didn't bother to pick it up; his hands were busy elsewhere. He was acutely aware of Finn's presence on the other side of the door, the way all his attention was on Puck, and what he was doing. Listening; waiting. Every sensation was magnified, intensified, and he found himself actually slowing down, drawing it out, to make it last. He made a noise, kind of a growl and kind of a moan, one that made him cringe but didn't stop the measured, grinding thrusts into his own fist.

He watched as Finn's shoes turned, pointing toward the door. The shift in position was subtle, but Puck decided he'd done it to allow himself to press one ear against the door. He had no idea if he would even be able to hear anything that way, but just the thought of Finn intentionally trying to hear better was enough to take him the rest of the way to getting off.

He was a little less embarrassed coming out to wash his hands this time. Finn looked calm and thoughtful.

"Having somebody listen," he said. "That really does it for you, huh?"

"Yeah," said Puck. "Fuck if I know why. Everybody's kinky in their own way, I guess."

Finn laughed. "I guess," he agreed. "I mean, I never thought about girls being like that. Do you think they've got things that get them turned on, too?"

"Hell yeah. Trust me, girls are way kinkier than they let on." He hesitated, then asked, "What about you?"

"You mean, do I have things like that? Things that... turn me on?" Puck nodded affirmative, and Finn turned a little pink. "Maybe? I'm sure I do, I just haven't had a lot of experience."

"What,  _now_  you're embarrassed?" Puck shook his head. "I totally don't get you."

"Hey, I'm embarrassed by everything," Finn assured him. "But I gave up a long time ago on letting that stop me from doing stuff, or else I'd just sit home all day."

Puck watched him leave, wondering if Finn had dodged the question on purpose, or if he was just that clueless about sex. Really, it could have been either one.

* * *

Before another week had passed, Puck's routine had done a one-eighty. He'd largely stopped jerking off in the morning or at night, unless he stumbled upon a particularly hot video online. Finn didn't give him a tough time about texting him in the middle of class. Puck was careful not to leave the same class two days in a row, and the speed and intensity of his climaxes made his visits to the men's room quick, even on occasions when he deliberately tried to prolong them.

He gave up trying to figure out why Finn's presence mattered so much. So it was a specific-person kink; so what? And if that happened to be a little more than not-exactly gay, he wasn't going to care as long as Finn didn't.

Puck began to imagine in more elaborate detail what Finn might be doing as he waited outside the walls of his bathroom stall. It was seldom sexual, because he was pretty clear Finn wasn't going to do anything like that when he was supposed to be listening to Puck. But he'd known Finn for nine years. He knew the way he stood, how he held his hands, the way his eyes looked, the tilt of his head when he didn't realize he was being watched. It was almost as though Puck was getting to watch  _Finn,_  in this way. Privately. Secretly. The idea gave him a ridiculous charge.

In the remaining portion of his life, he found himself more aware of Finn, too. He'd catch himself staring at him across the room, twiddling his pencil, or drumming paradiddles on his knee, or the way his brow knitted when he tried to understand something complex. He stored up all these ordinary details, like a cache of treasure, to include in his fantasies.  _Finn tucking his hands into his pockets. Finn running a hand through his hair. Finn scratching his neck._ Everything was fair game now; nothing seemed too trivial.

And he couldn't exactly be certain, but it seemed that Finn was paying more attention to him, too. He was still just regular old Finn, but Puck imagined he caught Finn watching him. There was no way to know for sure. For all Puck knew, he had been doing that all along.

Puck was pretty sure he'd failed his geometry test, so turning it in and asking to leave early didn't seem too unreasonable to him. He texted Finn to let him know where he was, but didn't wait for a reply. Instead, Puck let his imagination follow Finn, catching the text, taking his phone out of his pocket. Raising his hand, like the good boy he was, to ask for a pass. Unfolding his long legs from the desk, walking out the door, striding through the empty corridors toward the bathroom where Puck waited for him. As every moment passed, the tension grew. By the time he heard Finn enter, check the stalls for the presence of others, and murmur his quiet, "All clear," he was already well on his way.

It wasn't that Finn  _did_  anything in particular. He didn't speak, and seldom moved from his position beside Puck's stall. But that didn't matter to Puck. He wasn't looking for a  _participant._ He didn't need somebody there next to him, touching him, or kneeling beside him, stroking his cock for him -

Or  _fuck,_  maybe he did, and where the hell had that come from?

The mid-stream paradigm shift apparently wasn't going to interfere with a good orgasm. Puck was done within thirty seconds, and quiet went out the window at about second number eight. At least he managed to refrain from saying Finn's name aloud.

Afterwards, he sat there for at least an additional thirty seconds, waiting for his heartbeat to slow to a reasonable pace.

"You, uh..." Finn shuffled his feet. "Are you... okay in there?"

"Stellar," he muttered. Then, louder, he added, "Fine. Thanks. I'll... I'll see you in Spanish."

Finn paced back and forth in front of Puck's stall three times before he finally left, but Puck couldn't find it in him to reassure Finn any further. Even after Finn was gone, he made slow progress toward the sink to wash his hands, the images in his mind stilling his limbs. Each impossible, baffling scenario made him pause and flinch:  _Finn's lips on his neck; Finn's hands sliding around his back; Finn dropping to his knees in front of him._

And the worst part was, he couldn't even convince himself these images were new. He'd just done a hell of a job stuffing them down into his subconscious. Probably for months.  _Finn._  He stared at his hands, suspended in the stream of water from the faucet. He'd probably been thinking about Finn all along. Maybe the whole game, the guys - maybe all of that had been about Finn.  _What the fuck?_  He cupped his hands and splashed the icy water on his face.  _Finn, kissing the water off his lips._ He could feel them trembling.

All right, maybe he could deal with being kind of gay... but Finn sure as fuck wasn't going to care much for it.  _So much for having a friend I can tell anything._ Puck curled his fists around the edge of the sink, feeling the unfairness, heavy and raw.  _And now I can't even have this... because that really would be using him. I'm not gonna do that._

So it was time to end it. End the game, the whole thing. He had to tell Finn no, he couldn't do it anymore. But at this point there wasn't any rational reason for Puck to change his mind, not when he was clearly enjoying it on a nearly daily basis. He was going to need to come up with something that would convince Finn it would be in both their best interests to stop.

Becky Johnson handing out free copies of  _The Muckraker_  gave him an idea. He stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "You guys take rumors?" he asked. "Unsubstantiated stuff?"

"The dirtier, the better," Becky affirmed. Puck nodded grimly.

"I'll have something for you in an hour," he promised.

* * *

Finn found Puck first thing on Wednesday morning, and he didn't look happy. He pulled him aside and spoke in an anxious undertone. "Did somebody tell you?"

"I'm guessing not," said Puck, glancing at the paper Finn held, tension building in his gut. "They already took a hit at Sam, Quinn and Santana. What kind of junk are they printing now?"

"You." Finn opened to the middle section, folding it over and pointing at the article. "Guess somebody heard something."

_AFTERNOON DELIGHT?_

_What mohawked bad boy was witnessed luring defenseless wallflowers into the men's room for anonymous sexy times? An unnamed source spotted Noah "Puck" Puckerman emerging more than once from the lavatory with a satisfied smile on his face. A second source accused Puckerman of making inappropriate overtures. "He was totally having eyesex with me," the source claimed. "And I'm not the only [guy] he's hit on, either." Whether or not these overtures were welcome, he seems to be hitting a treble spot. These are no random slurs: Puckerman appears to be one cheap operetta. If he doesn't watch out, he might find himself the subject of violins._

"Oh, my god," Puck whispered. "I can't believe Jacob would stoop this low." He gave Finn a horror-stricken look. " _Puns?"_

"Puck, this is serious," Finn insisted, snatching the newspaper back out of Puck's hand. Puck stopped cracking up long enough to roll his eyes.

"Come on, dude. You know it's all a big joke, right?"

"No, man. No joke. These guys are serious. They've got some real dirt on you, and you know Jacob's not afraid to use it. This isn't the reputation you're looking for."

He shrugged, trying to look casual. "What? I'm a badass. You don't think I can get away with it?"

Finn stared at him. "Are you serious?" He glared at two sophomores as they walked by, watching them curiously, and lowered his voice. "You think it's going to end here? This, what you're doing - what  _we're_  doing... I thought it was okay, but I was wrong. We shouldn't do it anymore."

Puck felt simultaneous cascades of relief and disappointment. It wasn't too hard to give Finn a resigned sigh. "Yeah. You're probably right."

Finn appeared surprised to have gotten his way so quickly, but he recovered. "Good... that's good. Hopefully the rumors will die down soon. I mean, it's not like people don't have plenty of other stuff to gossip about. This whole rumor about Quinn and Sam..." He rubbed his forehead. "I don't know what to think about anybody anymore."

Puck had his own suspicions about Sam, but he just shrugged. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, people shouldn't push him, right?"

"Well, no... but if he and Quinn are doing stuff? I think I should know. Don't you?"

Finn was way too conflicted for Puck to deal with in the hallway. He bumped him on the arm. "Come on. I've got another geometry quiz to fail."

Puck saw April Rhodes in the hallway before lunch, but he didn't think much more about it until she showed up later in Glee club, singing an old Fleetwood Mac tune with Mr. Schue. His idea about doing songs from the Rumours album was kind of cool, actually.

Lauren stopped him on the way out the door, draping an arm around his shoulder. "You and me, babe: we should sing Sugar Daddy." She grinned, but when he didn't grin back, it faded to a thoughtful expression. "Huh. Something's up with you. Don't tell me it's that stupid story in  _The Muckraker_ about you in the men's john."

"Yeah, no. I totally fed them that story."  _And it's true, but that's beside the point._ He leaned into the support of Lauren's body for a long moment before putting some space between the two of them. "I... don't think I can sing that song with you."

She nodded slowly. "Are you gonna tell me why, or do I have to wrestle it out of you?"

Puck knew Lauren well enough to know she wasn't exactly kidding, no matter how jovial her tone was. He also knew she didn't deserve to be lied to. "There's somebody else. Somebody - they don't know, and they ain't gonna know? But it's... kind of surprising, and I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna get over it any time soon."

She nodded again, more soberly this time. Puck wasn't sure how to handle Lauren when she got all serious, but he couldn't find even one joke in him at that moment, so he just waited. Eventually she smiled, her expression rueful.

"Figured it was only a matter of time, Puckerman," she said. "But if you're telling me this much, there's a good chance you're gonna tell them, too. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

He shrugged.  _Hell might freeze over first_ would have been an accurate translation. But he found himself saying, "Yeah, maybe."

It was that line about honesty that made him even consider it. Finn, saying,  _You can tell me anything,_  and really meaning it. He'd listened to Puck talk about his kink. Maybe Puck actually could tell him...  _anything._

But right now, Puck was standing alone, watching Lauren walk away, realizing he'd just broken up with his awesome girlfriend of five months, and feeling like total crap.

It must have been showing on his face when he went to his locker and packed his bag to go home, because a quiet voice asked, "Are you okay?" He turned to see Artie beside him, looking possibly even more desolate and alone than he felt himself.

"Not really," said Puck. He slammed his locker. "What's going on with you?"

Artie sighed. "What do you do when your girlfriend's fooling around with another girl?"

"Besides ask to watch?"

Artie gave him a little shake of his head, like,  _Sorry, Puck, I can't handle it right now._  Puck took a deep breath and grasped the handles on Artie's wheelchair, pointing him back toward the choir room.

"You sing about it, man. Fleetwood Mac did this song called  _Never Going Back Again._  Perfect for the assignment. Let me give you a hand."

Artie was a perfectly competent guitar player, and Puck knew he could have done fine on his own, but he just looked a little too wrecked to handle the lyrics and the fingerings at the same time. The anguish on his face as he sang made Puck a little grateful he wasn't dealing with love. He was pretty sure he'd never felt anything like what Artie was going through, for anybody.

[ _http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTcyg5Dz06c_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTcyg5Dz06c)

_She broke down and let me in_  
 _Made me see where I've been  
 _Been down one time  
 _Been down two times  
 _I'm never going back again____  


_You don't know what it means to win  
 _Come down and see me again  
 _Been down one time  
 _Been down two times  
 _I'm never going back again_____

Artie watched Puck pick out the guitar part, smiling faintly. "Funny how something that feels so bad can sound so good."

"Pretty sure everybody in Glee can relate to that," Puck agreed. He strummed the C chord, capoed up to an A. "Pretty sure everybody could play this chord, too. Just an A, strumming backup to the vocals and lead guitar. That'd be cool, wouldn't it? A whole choir of guitars."

Artie brightened. "Yeah. That'd be awesome. Jazz band has a couple of guitars. Sam can play. What about Finn?"

Puck had a sudden sharp memory of nine-year-old Finn, Puck's dad's guitar in his hands, trying desperately to make his long fingers do the bar-chord thingie it took Puck two years to master. It cut him to remember Finn like that, somehow. Maybe it was because he looked so different now, but was still so obviously the same nine-year-old inside: eager to please, methodical, determined.  _Finn._

He looked up to see Artie watching him with a keen awareness. It made him uneasy.

"Finn can't play," Puck said. "But I'm sure he could play an A chord. All he'd have to do is strum in rhythm."

"Yeah?" Artie indicated his guitar. "Will you... show him?"

Puck found himself oddly close to panic at the idea, but he got a grip on himself before replying, "Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks for helping me with this." Artie set his face in grim resignation. "I want Britt to be happy, you know, but... mostly, I want her to be happy with  _me."_

Puck thought about this more than he probably needed to on his way to his truck, and by the time he stopped thinking about it, he was already halfway to Finn's house. He wasn't a complete idiot, so he called rather than attempting to type on the tiny keyboard while driving.

"We're helping Artie with a song for the Glee assignment," he said. "You've gotta play the guitar. I'm coming over."

"Um... okay?" Finn paused long enough for Puck to begin to wonder what else he could say that wouldn't include any of the things he wasn't at all sure he could say, but eventually Finn went on. "Rachel wants to sing with me, too."

"Yeah, she's kind of got it bad for you." He turned the corner into Finn's neighborhood, watching out for the kid on his bike crossing the street. "Bet Quinn's not too happy about that."

"Yeah." Finn sighed. "It's really more complicated than it should be."

Puck had a pretty good idea of where Finn was as he spoke on the phone. He wasn't in his old house, the one with the bedroom under the eaves and the vintage wallpaper; he would be in the room Burt had built for Finn over the garage after he and Carole got married. Finn still had his same old furniture in the enormous new room, his tiny single bed still way too short for his lanky frame. He didn't need that huge space, didn't have nearly enough stuff to fill it up, but it gave him a place to practice the drums without bothering anybody. Puck could picture him, in his newly too-detailed imagination, sprawled on his back on the bed, one leg and one arm hanging off the edge, staring up at the ceiling fan with blades shaped like palm leaves.

Puck could see the lights were on in Finn's room as he pulled up in front of the Hudson-Hummel house. He could see the ceiling fan through the window, which made an odd juxtaposition with the image in his mind.

"I'm here," said Puck.

"Yeah, I know," said Finn. "I'm really glad you are."

"No, I mean... I'm here. Out front."

"Oh." As Puck watched, he saw Finn rise from the bed and approach the window. He gave Puck a giant smile and a wave, just a little  _hey,_  but it was almost enough to make him drop his phone.

_He's waiting for me,_ he thought in anxious desperation, and ran a hand between his legs over his half-hard cock before waving back.

"There you are," said Finn into the phone. "I'll meet you downstairs."

He just sat there for another minute, following Finn's eager progress in his mind: into the hallway, three strides to the top of the stairs, a little leap from the fourth step to the floor of the foyer to open the front door. And there he was again, on the porch, anticipating Puck's arrival. Making him lose all sense of perspective, making him want to say - all kinds of stupid things. Really dumb stupid things that you didn't say to your best friend. Even if they had agreed to listen to you jack off.

Puck made his hand open the door of his truck, pick up his guitar and head into the house.

"You're going to try to get me to play that?" Finn said, nodding at the Taylor's case.

"Any idiot can play an A chord," said Puck, which wasn't an answer, nor was it the thing he was thinking about. Finn was just lucky Puck wasn't trying to give him a fucking kiss in the state he was in. He took the stairs to Finn's room two at a time, opening his guitar case just to give his hands something to do.  _Dumb stupid fucking things._

"So, uh." Finn closed the door to his bedroom behind him. " _The Muckraker._  You're taking care of that?"

He didn't glance around at Finn, but he could see him as clearly as though he had little rear-view mirrors built into the side of his head: Finn's anxious face, his cautious stance, his arms crossed in front of him until he became self-conscious of that and dropped them to his sides, brushing against the seams of his jeans. When had jean seams become so fucking sexy? Not to mention the one running along the inside of his thigh... Puck give his head a firm shake, slinging the guitar strap over his head.

"Not much I can do, considering it's all true." Puck turned to face him at last, tuning the strings. "All right. Listen."

He played through the song once, all the fingerpicking patterns, with the capo up on the sixth fret. Finn listened carefully - not that Puck would expect anything less from him, really - as Puck sang the lyrics. "Now." He pulled off the capo, clipping it on the edge of the headstock, and strummed a plain A chord. "This is what you'll play, while Artie's singing and I'm playing the accompaniment. C'mere."

He disconnected the strap, moving to stand behind Finn and fasten it over his shoulder. Finn's hand came up to hold the neck, resting his arm on top of the guitar. Puck witnessed every tiny motion of his hands, his arms, his head nodding in time to the music, the way he watched Puck for directions.

Puck nodded stiffly at the guitar, trying to maintain some reasonable distance between himself and Finn's back, or at least not to attempt to hump his thigh. But then Finn put his hand upside-down on the fingerboard, and Puck had to take Finn's hand in his, positioning each finger, and wondering how in fucking hell he'd ever thought he could do this and have it be okay.

"Like this?" said Finn, holding up the guitar. He lost his balance a little, stumbling back into Puck - and planted one firm buttcheek directly against Puck's erection.

"Shit," Puck hissed, scrambling back, but it was too late, it was far too fucking  _late_  for anything - anything except maybe shame and humiliation. He closed his eyes and waited for both of them to begin.

"Hey." Finn's soft voice coaxed Puck's eyes back open; he tilted his head up to meet Finn's. He guessed he shouldn't be surprised to see those eyes didn't look at all ashamed. They were full of complex emotions, but overriding them all was Finn's acceptance of him, exactly as he was - which, at the moment, was harder than fucking iron. Finn's endearing lopsided smile didn't help things any. "You can't expect me to be surprised. Not after the last couple weeks at school."

Puck couldn't keep the heat from rising in his face. He gripped the neck of the guitar for support, suspended from Finn's shoulder. "Yeah, well, even that's... different, from what I thought it was."

"It doesn't matter," said Finn. "Whatever it is - it's okay. But... dude." He sought Puck's eyes. "You know I'm with Quinn. And I'm not cheating on her."

Puck's first reaction was gibbering astonishment, that Finn would even consider doing anything with him that could fall under the umbrella of cheating. He wanted to take a good long ten seconds to stand there and imagine all the things that might include, most of which involved fewer clothing. His second reaction, however, was the one that made him pause and frown instead of attempt to climb Finn like a jungle gym.

"You don't think anything we've done in the last two weeks would look like cheating to her?"

Finn's brow knotted. "Not... no." He thought again, then repeated, "No."

_I wouldn't be so sure about that,_  he nearly said, but then Finn dropped his eyes to Puck's crotch, and Puck felt it like a physical touch. He choked off his response. Finn's awareness of him, of his body - Puck was pretty sure there wasn't anything hotter.

Finn turned to face Puck, unstrapping the guitar from his neck and holding it in one hand. "You... didn't do that today."

Puck shook his head, breathing through a dry mouth. He didn't dare lick his lips, not when he knew exactly what  _that_  was. Finn's eyes strayed to the bathroom door in the corner of the room, then back to rest on Puck again.

"Maybe you should. Now, I mean. I can listen. If you want."

_I broke up with Lauren because of you,_ Puck's impotent mind babbled, while his legs took charge and made a beeline for the bathroom.  _I don't care what you say, Finn fucking Hudson, this is totally cheating. And fuck me for not having the strength to say no._

Puck closed the door behind himself and leaned against it, already unzipping his jeans. He tucked a hand inside and drew his cock out, grateful for the friction against the webbing of his thumb. All he could do was picture Finn standing outside the door, touching it, leaning against it himself, and he groaned aloud as he'd never let himself do at school.

"You're there?" he demanded. "Fuck, Finn... tell me you're there."

"I'm here," he heard, a little muffled, but calm, only inches away. "You're fine. I'm right here."

Puck closed his eyes. His hips outlined a circular pattern of need, bucking into his fist and retreating against the door with a soft thud. Whatever Finn had said about cheating was irrelevant to his imagination, in which Finn was the door, and Puck was grinding up against him, feeling his arms circle him and clasp him tight, his hands - he jerked, cursing under his breath.

"I couldn't say anything," said Finn. "At school. And you wanted me to - to not talk. To stay silent. Do you, um... still want me to do that?"

_Finn's voice, in my ear._  "No," he groaned, picking up the pace. "You can talk. Please."

"God," he muttered. "I can't - I mean, I'm not... I just wanted you to know I'm..."

Puck waited breathlessly to discover what Finn was, but all that Puck heard from the other side of the door was silence. He paused, sighing.

"It's okay," Puck said. "You don't have to say anything."

Finn let out a bitter laugh. "Trust me, I want to. There's a lot of stuff I want to say."

He rested his head back against the door. "You told me I could tell you anything. Why can't you?"

"Because," he said, resigned. "Some of the things I want to say would  _definitely_  be cheating."

_Oh._  Puck laughed back. He was almost unable to speak, he was grinning so hard. "Um... wow. That's kind of..."

"I know," Finn interrupted, "I know, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't say anything. Really."

He brushed the back of the door with his knuckles. "I was going to say  _amazing._ "

There was a long pause.

"Jesus, Puck," Finn said. He sounded almost awed. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"  _Because whatever it is, I want to do it a lot._  Puck felt Finn's weight press against the other side of the door, and he leaned more heavily on his side. Balanced like that, it was almost as though they were holding one another up.

"With Quinn, I'm always fighting for ground. I feel angry, frustrated. With Rachel, I'm following her lead, but I never know when she's going to freak out on me for something unexpected. But you -" There was a pause.

"What?" he asked.

"You just make me... happy."

It was typical dorky Finn, and if Puck hadn't been so distracted by trying to get off, he would have stopped there and told Finn exactly what that meant to him.  _Finn doesn't want that,_  his skeptical voice whispered, but it was becoming harder and harder to believe.

"Friends do that," he agreed, and continued stroking himself, his awareness on Finn's breathing, which was loud enough now for him to hear through the door.

"Friends?" Finn said skeptically.

"Yeah. Friends, no matter what, man."

The words weren't meant to cut, but he heard Finn's voice respond as though they had, sounding shaky and indistinct. "Puck, I don't... I don't know if I can be your friend anymore."

Puck felt a prickle of unease. "You - what? Why not? I thought you said -"

"No, I mean... not  _just_ your friend. I've been trying, but I really don't know if I can be... only that anymore."

The fear and anxiety ebbed, leaving in their wake a glittering vista of possibilities. Puck reached to take a little lotion from the pump on Finn's bathroom counter, feeling dizzy, and when he touched himself again, he gasped a little at the cool, slick sensation.

"But you're with Quinn," he managed to say. "So... no cheating."

"Yeah. And you're with Lauren."

Puck indulged in the first positive thought he'd had about that situation. "Not anymore. I broke up with her today - or she did with me, or something. I told her..."

"You told her?" Finn echoed, bewildered.

He took a deep breath. "That there was someone else. And that they'd never want anything, but that I couldn't... with her, if I felt... the things I was feeling about... you."

"Me?" Finn sounded so completely incredulous. Puck tried not to grind his teeth.

"Look, man, I'm really interested in this conversation. Really. But I'm having a hard time staying focused."  _Not to mention staying on this side of the door._ He glanced down at the door knob.

"Okay. Yes. First things... first. I'm just... I'd better not say anything, while you're, um."

Puck was  _um_  with focused intent now, feeling the tension creep down his neck and between his shoulder blades as he fisted his slick cock. Finn listening to him now presented far more interesting and stimulating possibilities than it had a few minutes ago. Puck's imagination got as far as  _Finn, pressing one finger inside me_  before he came with a gasp and a sigh.

"Okay," he said to Finn, feeling more clear and rational once he'd recovered. He turned his head toward the door. "That stuff in  _The Muckraker,_  about me? I leaked it to Becky Johnson."

He could almost hear Finn's eyes widen. "Why?"

"Because all of a sudden, the images in my head weren't just about you standing there, listening. You were... well, it was a lot more involved."

Finn cleared his throat. "So you were saying you're... feeling things. Maybe thinking about - doing things?" His hoarse whisper was barely audible. "To me?"

"Kind of the other way around," Puck admitted. Finn let out a surprised little noise. "Yeah, trust me, I didn't expect it, but... I think maybe I've been thinking about it for a while, without exactly letting myself  _really_  think about it?"

He washed his hands and dried them on Finn's King's Island towel. Puck had a matching one, from the first time they'd gone, when they were ten and finally tall enough for all of the rides. He held the towel in his hands for a little longer before hanging it up and opening the door.

Finn was seated on the bed, one hand on Puck's guitar. The expression on his face made Puck want to give him a hug, or possibly take off and head back to his truck.

"Are you freaking out?" Puck asked.

Finn shook his head. "I'm - shit." He held his head in both hands, leaning forward onto his knees. " _Now_  I feel like I cheated."

Puck approached him slowly, extracting his guitar from under Finn's hand. "You should probably call her."

"I can't. Quinn would never be able to keep this secret. Everybody would know by the next day." He looked up at Puck, conflict furrowing his brow. "I feel kind of screwed."

Puck grinned. "Nah. I'm pretty sure that boner would be gone, if you were."

Finn stared at him for several long heartbeats before laughing out loud, helplessly shaking his head. "You... for Christ's sake, Puck..."

Puck set his guitar back in its case before taking a seat on the bed. Finn was still laughing when he rested a hand on his thigh.

"You told me I could tell you anything," he said. "I'm just being myself. You seem to like me pretty well that way."

"Yeah," Finn agreed, blushing. "I do."

Puck nodded. "So... yeah, I guess you've got some decisions to make. Whatever you decide, I'll deal, but I still think you have to talk to Quinn."

Finn's eyes were on Puck's hand. "For all I know, she's already cheating on me with Sam. I cheated on Rachel with her; she cheated on me with you."

"Yeah." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the crotch of Finn's pants. That boner wasn't going anywhere. It would be so easy just to - he took his hand off Finn's leg. Finn watched it go, letting out his breath slowly. "You don't want to do this."

"God, Puck," he whispered. "I  _totally_  want to do this."

Puck watched his mouth, his tense jaw, the tendons in his neck. "Since when?"

"For a long fucking time." Finn raised a hand to touch Puck's face, then caught himself and let it fall to his lap. He let out a frustrated sound.

"You're really asking me to be the responsible one?" said Puck. "I kind of suck at that, but..."

"No." Finn's hands curled into fists. "No, I can handle this. And you're right. You talked to Lauren. I can talk to Quinn."

"You don't have to tell her who it is."

Finn grimaced. "Yeah, but she's going to think I'm talking about Rachel, if I don't."

"So let Rachel take the hit. If Quinn's gonna spread rumors, let her." Puck stood up, picking up his guitar case. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck."

Finn didn't have any more words for him. That was fine. Puck didn't hear from him again that night, not that he'd exactly expected to. But his imagination followed Finn through the rest of his evening: to the table for dinner with Kurt and Burt and Carole, to his drum set to exorcise the worst of the tension, to his homework, always done sprawled on the floor of the family room, oblivious to the noise of Burt's enormous television.

And finally to Finn's room, to his bed, where Puck found himself obsessing over each gratuitous detail of Finn, jacking off to thoughts of Puck. It was almost too bizarre for him to cope with. Not to mention Puckzilla was single again. He didn't need to resort to his own hand anymore. There were plenty of girls he could call.

Except he didn't want to. Apparently, the only thing he wanted to do was to text Finn pointless, ridiculous things - but he wasn't going to do that, either.

He wasted a good fifteen minutes freaking out about the idea of Finn calling Quinn and pledging his undying love before finally scowling, turning off the light and going to bed.

When he woke the next morning, there was a text from Finn:

_Pretty sure the dream I just had constituted cheating._

He snorted his milk hard enough that his sister Sarah glared at him and told him to shut up, but she was kind of grinning when she said it.

"Since when did you get so happy?" she asked, watching him curiously over her cereal.

He shrugged, feeling the heat on his face, in his chest, in his cock. It was all due to one thing. "Hoping for good news today, squirt," he replied. "Keep your fingers crossed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Insomnia Cookies for delivering hot chocolate chip mint deliciousness to my door in the middle of the night. You are a fanfic writer's wet dream. 
> 
> And I give up; I can't even write porn without it getting schmoopy. Sorry. Not really. 
> 
> -amy

 

It wasn't the hardest thing Puck had ever done, but approaching Finn in the hallway without letting everything he was thinking and feeling show on his face was definitely somewhere in the top ten. He began by staring casually at Finn's shoulder and watching his expression out of the corner of his eye, trying to assess whether or not he was indeed thinking about that dream he'd mentioned in his text, or if he was currently considering punching Puck in the face.

The closer Puck got, the less certain he was. It was made more complicated by his inability to look Finn in the eye. He was pretty sure that, if he did that, everything he felt would be completely, glaringly obvious to the other sixty people in close proximity. He also suspected he wouldn't be able to keep from doing things that he'd done with plenty of girls but which, if he did them with a guy, would almost surely get him stuffed into a dumpster. Stuff that would have been nothing, not even inappropriate, if done to a girl, but if he did them to Finn - he gave himself a mental shake.

"Hey," Puck said. He stopped a couple feet away from him.

"Hey," Finn said. It sounded soft and a little nervous, and Puck felt a little more hopeful. He looked up once at Finn's face before falling into step beside him. Finn had a tiny grin quirking up one corner of his mouth. And then  _he_  glanced over at Puck, just for a moment, looking away immediately, and let out an exasperated sigh when he saw Puck watching him. Puck chuckled.

"I feel like a total idiot." Finn's face was red. "You have no idea how close I came to not coming to school today."

"Hey, then you'd be letting the fuckers win," Puck said, letting his swagger show a little. He ignored Felix, standing beside his locker, who watched Puck and Finn walk by in tense silence.

"No... I mean you. Seeing you." Finn rounded the corner, lengthening his stride unconsciously, and Puck had to accelerate to keep up. "I was sure you were going to wake up and think - fuck, I don't even know."

"No, I get it," said Puck. "Trust me, I do. That text this morning, that really helped. I was kind of freaking out last night."

Puck shut his mouth when Finn looked back over his shoulder at him, startled. " _You_  were freaking out?"

_Stupid,_  he groaned to himself. He tried to affect nonchalance, shrugging. He couldn't exactly say  _It's different now,_  because - because maybe for Finn it wasn't? Maybe he wasn't feeling all the confusion and anxiety and crazy hot sexy stuff that Puck was finding himself wading through whenever Finn was near him. He didn't know how he could have failed to notice it before. Because he didn't think you could  _all of a sudden_  start being attracted to somebody.

"Yeah," he made himself say, keeping his voice low. "Because - what if all these things I'm wanting - I didn't think there was any way you would have... but now, I think maybe you might, some of them, and... if you want them, but we can't  _do them,_  that's kind of worse, you know?"

Finn's eyes widened on the words  _do them,_  but he was still looking back over his shoulder at Puck when he did it. He walked directly into Santana, almost knocking her over.

"God, walk much, Frankenteen?" she snapped, straightening her Cheerios uniform. "I don't know why they don't just fold you up and wheel you around on one of those scooters from gym class. At least it'd make you closer to a normal height."

Puck glared at her. "You on your period, Satan? Oh, I forgot, you're always this much of a bitch."

"What, is your  _boyfriend_  sticking up for you now, Finnocence? Can't really call you that anymore, can I." She paused, staring at Finn's red face, and then back to Puck, searching for something. "Oh, my god. It's not  _true,_  is it?"

"I - I don't know what you're talking about," Finn stammered, backing away. He cast a desperate look at Puck, then ducked away down the hall toward history class. Santana rested her hands on her hips and sighed, watching him disappear.

"That boy needs to get laid like nobody's business," she muttered. She looked Puck up and down. "Never would have expected you to be hot for that."

"I've got my pick, babe," he said. "Didn't you hear? The Puckmeister is single. They're gonna be lining up around the corner."

She grinned at him, putting a hand on his chest. "That might be true, but I saw the way you were looking at him. You want to do the same stuff to him that you did to me." Her thumb brushed over his nipple ring. "Who knows; maybe he'd like it better from you than from me. He was kind of a rotten lay."

Puck wrestled his ridiculously defensive response into submission. "You'd know," he said, trying to smirk. "Bet you've had plenty of them."

"Better bad sex than no sex, is what I always say, but I should have made an exception for Happy Hudson there. It was hardly worth my trouble, considering he finished about ten seconds after we started." She sneered, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. "Please, tell me you don't  _really_  want to tap that, because I seriously doubt he'd be worth your trouble, either."

What the hell was he going to say? Finn had warned him he might have to defend himself against the guys, but was he really going to stand here and lie to Santana, who he'd known for even longer than he'd known Finn? And if he didn't, could he trust her not to say anything? He just wasn't sure - and  _not sure_  wasn't worth enough for him to risk it.

"You're so sure you're seeing straight, Satan?" He gave her an easy smile. "I think I'm looking at something mighty fine right here."

Her reaction was somewhat different than he expected. Her face darkened in a scowl, and she gave him a hard shove, pushing him off balance. "Very funny,  _Suckerman,_ " she hissed. "Like I told Berry, you can keep your goddamn labels to yourself."

Puck watched her disappear down the hallway the opposite direction from Finn. He hadn't meant to imply anything, but it was kind of interesting that she was so jumpy about that these days.  _Not like everybody didn't already know she was doing Britt._  He'd bought himself a little time, anyway. She wouldn't be bringing up his sexuality again any time soon. Which was just as well, because apparently he was going to have to call it into question.

He was going to need some backup from somebody who knew what he was talking about. There was no way he was talking to Kurt about this, which kind of left him with no other options.

Puck turned around and headed back down the hall the way they'd come. Felix was still at his locker. When Puck stopped in front of him, he flinched away, looking terrified.

"Dude, I'm not going to hurt you," Puck said patiently. "Haven't you noticed? I'm totally reformed. You're safe with me. But I need to talk to you. You got a minute?"

Felix stammered out something that sounded affirmative, and when Puck slapped him on the back, he even smiled a little.

"Great. I'll be in the choir room in five."

It was a little too public for Puck's taste, but he didn't want to give Felix the wrong idea again by suggesting they talk in the men's room. It was time to enlist some help from trusted adults. Next stop was the Spanish room.

" _Hola, Señor Schue,"_  he said, sticking his head through the door. "Hey, I've got an important convo, real personal. Okay if I use the choir room? It won't take too long."

Mr. Schuester looked both suspicious and concerned at the same time - sadly, not an unfamiliar expression from him. "Um... sure, Puck; nobody's meeting in there this hour. Do you have a hall pass?"

"Working on it. Thanks."

Next, he circled around to Ms. Pilsbury's office, where she sat at her desk, lining up blueberries in what looked to be order of size. "Ms. P?"

She gave him an expectant smile. "Noah, how can I help you?"

He explained the situation in as few words as possible, avoiding terms that might embarrass her, but she was still a dusky rose by the time he was done. "So I need a pass for this hour," he concluded, "and one for each of the other guys."

"You have a creative way of seeing the world, Noah," she told him as she wrote out the passes. "Would you please consider what you're doing to be a form of outing? I don't know if they'd appreciate it."

"That's why I need to do it one at a time," he said, nodding. "You won't tell anybody, will you? Not until I'm sure how it's going to pan out."

"Of course I won't," she promised, handing him the slips of paper. He gave her a relieved smile.

"Stop by Glee later and you can hear Artie sing some vintage Fleetwood Mac with a guitar choir."

His last stop was to drop off his pass in history class. Finn didn't bother to make eye contact with him when he walked in the door, but when Puck went to Mr. Reynolds' desk and explained how he wouldn't be in class today, he looked up, appearing torn. Puck wasn't going to call attention to Finn in front of the whole class either, but he did send Finn a text on his way to the choir room.  _Don't worry,_  he said.  _Nothing's wrong. I'm just taking care of some business. You deal with Quinn._

They weren't supposed to text in the middle of class, so Puck didn't expect a reply. Whatever was going on with Finn, that was his deal. Puck had his own fucking demons to face.

Felix was waiting for him by the risers. When Puck walked in, he stood up, glancing nervously around himself. "I'm going to be late for class," he said, but Puck held out the hall pass. He took it, looking confused.

"So this is me, apologizing," said Puck. "About what I did earlier in the year, with you in the bathroom."

Felix's eyes flew open. He took an involuntary step back, looking around once again for witnesses or recording equipment or something. "Oh - um..."

"I'm sure you're a nice guy. Maybe you thought I was coming on to you, or offering something a little more fun than what you got. But the truth is, I was just trying to get off. Seems like kind of a crummy thing to do to somebody, taking advantage of you like that." He held out a hand. "We cool?"

Felix stared down at his hand, then looked back up into Puck's face. Then he took his hand, shaking it. "Yeah, we're cool." He smiled hesitantly. "I figured you were never going to talk to me again, after you stopped... you know."

"Yeah, well, as it turns out, I've been into a different guy all along," said Puck, "and you were just the substitute." The words felt a little funny on his tongue, but it wasn't a lie. He figured telling Felix was safe, considering he'd kept Puck's other secret all this time. Felix blinked at him. "I'm sorry," he added. "Anyway, I guess I owe you one. You think you like guys, too, or was this just a sex thing?"

He dropped Puck's hand. "You're asking me if I'm...?" After a long pause, he shook his head, but Puck was pretty sure that didn't mean he wasn't.

"You don't have to tell me," he said.

Felix stared at the floor. "All through sophomore year, I used to look at Kurt in the hallway and think,  _I could never be that brave._  I just figured, I was alone, and unless something crazy happened, I'd probably stay alone. It wasn't such a big deal. And then you..."

Puck grinned. "Fell prey to the sex shark."

Felix laughed. "Um. Something like that. It was... well, it was really  _hot."_  The last words came out in a whisper. "You might have thought you were taking advantage of me, but I never thought about it that way."

"Yeah, I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one getting off." Puck decided Felix was kind of cute when he blushed like that. "So, my other question is, if you had the chance to meet other guys who like guys, here at school... would you take it?"

"I - maybe? Yes?" Felix's looked like he'd never considered the idea. "You mean there  _are_ other guys? How do you - oh." His blush deepened.

"You'd have something in common," Puck said wryly. "And yeah, you could talk about it. I'd just ask that you keep it to yourselves. So you want me to pass your name? Think of it as a peace offering."

Felix appeared to be walking around and around the idea, as though he was wondering if it was a beautifully wrapped birthday present or a ticking time bomb. Finally, he gulped a little, and nodded, ducking his head. "I'd like that. And thanks."

Puck watched him walk out, not really checking out Felix's ass, but kind of feeling like he'd done something good. The Robin Hood of sex.  _Steal from the rich to give to the lonely._ He checked his phone on his way to French class, but there was still no reply from FInn.

He delivered the next pass to Madame Daniels. Warren approached her desk with a wary expression when summoned. Puck didn't speak French, but he thought he could understand the gist of what Warren said to her:  _I don't want to go with this guy._

"This won't take very long," Puck soothed. "I promise, it's nothing bad."

Warren, like Felix, listened to reason. He wasn't nearly as kind as Felix had been, but he did accept Puck's apology, and shook his hand when it was offered. When Puck explained about Felix, though, he fell silent.

"He was pretty sure he was the only other gay guy at the school besides Kurt," Puck said. "I think he's was all ready to be lonely forever, which totally sucks. He could use a friend."

Warren nodded slowly. "I'm not sure I would say I'm gay, exactly, but... yeah. I get it. And I'd talk to him." He glared at Puck. "So what are  _you?"_

"Dunno." Puck shrugged. "I didn't even think I liked guys. But I sure as hell like this one."

"Yeah." He jammed his hands into his pocket, still frowning. "It's Finn Hudson, right?"

"Not my story to tell," Puck replied, a little more sharply than he probably needed to. Warren just smirked, but he did ask Puck to pass on his name.

Over the next hour, Puck met with each the guys who'd ended up with him in the bathroom - even those who now had girlfriends, because he knew well enough that didn't automatically imply they hadn't wanted to be there. He was especially glad when so many of them were willing to let him share their names with the others. Not one of them told him to fuck off or threatened to report him, and a couple of them even thanked him. Roy gave him a hug and whispered something embarrassing into his ear.

With each conversation Puck felt a little lighter, until by the time Glee rolled around, he'd dealt with them all. He couldn't wait to tell Finn.

And then Finn walked in, arm in arm with Quinn, and Puck's excitement ground to a halt. He took a seat in the front row and didn't take his eyes off the floor until Mr. Schue paired the guys up to practice the guitar part in Artie's song.

"Puck, you go with Finn," he said, pointing to the guitars on stands by the wall. Finn eyed him cautiously, much as they had done that morning, as they found a seat in the corner, sitting beside one another.

"Either you already talked to her," Puck murmured under his breath as he moved Finn's fingers to the right frets again, "and decided to give up on this... or you didn't talk to her. Either way, you're being a fucking coward."

Finn sighed miserably, practicing switching back and forth between the E and the A chords. "I'm sorry. I tried to talk to Quinn last night, but I couldn't get ahold of her. Then I really choked this morning when Santana saw us."

"Yeah, well, she's got her own issues. I wouldn't worry too much about her." He thought about what she'd said about Finn being a bad lay, about his hair trigger, his inadequate body, and compared it to the way his own body was  _waking up_  just being in close proximity to him. Every word Finn spoke, every movement he made, each little thing hit him with near-physical force. He curled into himself a little against the strength of the impact. "None of what she said mattered one bit. You know that, right?"

Finn nodded. "I just don't know if I can deal with stuff like that every day. If you're asking me -"

"Look." Puck wished he could grab the guitar out of Finn's hands and  _make_  him look at him. "I'm not asking you anything. This is totally up to you. I never even expected this much. But you  _know_  you've got to talk to Quinn. She's gonna know something's up."

"She already does," said Finn. "I suck at lying. Even if I don't talk to her, she'll know."

"So..." He nudged Finn's knee with his own. Even this provoked a response. It was like his brain had forgotten that his knee wasn't an erogenous zone. "Tonight. Call her tonight."

"I can't tonight. Rachel and I are - doing something. It's not a date." Finn looked more embarrassed about this than anything. "It's a stakeout. We're trying to figure out what's going on with Sam at this motel."

He had to laugh, but it was a little bitter. "Why do you care so much what Sam is doing?"

"Quinn said this thing. About... Sam, not being gay. Like, she knew." He looked hard at the side of the guitar, tracing the wood grain with his eyes. "And I was just wondering, how she might know."

Puck frowned. "Like, because she might have done something with him?"

"No, like... maybe she might know about me, too."

Puck had nothing to say in response to this. He had exactly zero words that encompassed the feelings he had about Finn Hudson thinking he might be gay. It was completely outside his frame of reference. Finn, getting turned on listening to him jerk off, sure; he was a guy. He could get turned on by falling leaves or cars honking or broccoli. Even Finn, being willing to admit he might want to do stuff with Puck, he could see that, maybe. But Finn, using a three-letter word that implied all kinds of things about his identity, his future, his expectations for the way he was going to be seen in the world? Puck had absolutely nada.

Finn glanced over at him, looking distraught, but underneath that, very determined. He rubbed his hand on his knee. "I'm not thinking I would, you know, be all activist and angry about it like Kurt, but... Jesus, Puck. You've got to believe I'm thinking about it. This is a big deal."

Puck tried really hard not to think about or mention the  _big deal_  currently happening in his pants, but he nodded, thankful for the guitar in his lap. "Yeah, it is for me, too." He played the melody line, trying to refocus on the music, on anything other than the guy sitting in front of him, who was making him think about his  _big deal,_  and - fuck, he wasn't freaking out. He  _wasn't_. He took a deep breath. "You really don't have to tell anybody. At all. It could just be..."

Finn gave him a vaguely hurt look. "Be what?"

"You know. Just for us." He shifted the body of his guitar forward a couple inches, trying to give himself a little more room to move, but shifted it back after about five seconds, because that pressure was just about the only thing keeping him from popping a full-fledged boner. Thinking about having a secret affair with Finn Fucking Hudson was definitely contributing to its growth. "I wasn't actually thinking about telling the world I want to -"

As Puck cut off the end of that sentence, Finn's expression went from nervous to  _fuckyeah_  in about three seconds. He was practically wiping the drool off his chin, leaning in, his eyes fixed to Puck's mouth.  _What did Finn want him to do with his mouth?_  God, that was the question of the year. Of the century, maybe.

"I'd better -" He stood, unstrapping his guitar and setting it carefully across three chairs in the second row of the risers before signalling to Mr. Schue that he was going... out. Yeah. Going out of the room was a good start. He didn't even wait for Schue's okay. Around the corner, toward the bathroom, through the door, into the center stall and -

And what? What the fuck was he going to do? He pressed the heel of his palm to the base of his cock and pressed, hard, keeping it silent, because of course he hadn't checked the stalls. He'd become so used to depending on Finn, letting him take care of it. Doing this, alone, like this... it might provide relief, but it wasn't going to be any more than that. No satisfaction to be had here. This was depressing and harsh and  _fucking lonely,_  that's what it was. He leaned against the stall wall, grinding his palm into his crotch and waiting to feel something more than bad, when he heard the door open.

The hope leaping into his throat took charge of his hand, and he gripped his cock, kind of making room for himself in his jeans at the same time he squeezed himself harder. He heard the measured pace cross the room to the back stall, then to the one on the other side of him, and finally stop.  _Say something,_  he willed to Finn, hoping he would somehow hear him and know what he needed, _tell me I'm not alone in this crazy fucking thing, please, just -_

"I don't really want to do this," said Finn, directly outside his door. Puck's hand fell, slack, to his side.

"You don't." He could barely even consider that much, much less formulate a complete sentence.

"No, it's - this is really stupid, man. Why the hell am I here in the boys' bathroom when -" Finn sighed, a frustrated sound. "When we could just go to your house."

It took a few seconds to restart his brain, but his cock heard much more quickly than that, and his hand was listening to his cock, definitely, his cock was absolutely in charge here, and he was squeezing and kneading it through his jeans, making completely unsubtle noises to accompany them. "Cheating," he gasped.

"I told you, man, I'm already cheating. In my head, I am. In my head, I'm doing... all kinds of things." The last couple of syllables disappeared into a hoarse whisper. "So either I'm cheating here, listening to you get off, or I'm cheating at your house, where I can -"

He heard Finn's own groan, and Puck filled in the empty space that followed with all kinds of possibilities.  _Help me get off_  was probably top of that list, but  _get off with me_  was right up there. His briefs were slick with his own fluids; he could feel the slippery mess right through his jeans. He swallowed a whine, starting a slow rhythm with his hand.

"Your call as to what you do right now, man," he said, as steadily as he could. "Stay, or go back to class, but I'm getting off, right here."

He listened to Finn and his heavy breathing for a few seconds before unzipping his jeans, freeing his cock and sitting on the edge of the toilet. He was too far gone for anything more than a light, quick stroke with three fingers, but not so far gone that he missed Finn, entering the stall next to him, and letting his own jeans drop to his ankles.

"Hey," Puck blurted, beyond startled.  _Shocked._  "Since when do you -"

"Since when do I do any of this shit?" Finn cut in. He could hear the little hitch in Finn's voice, the acceleration of his ragged breathing.  _Desperate. Finn was desperate to get off, because of me. I made him jerk off at school. Me._ "I don't do this. Guys don't - I'm not into guys. I told Kurt, I'm not - I don't -  _fuck -"_

Puck had never really thought what it would have been like to be the other guy, the one listening on the opposite side of the wall. But now that he was, he decided he didn't like it at  _all._  Not because it wasn't hot, because yes,  _yes,_  this was hot, this could just as well be his favorite new fantasy for all he found it so fucking hot. No, the hard part was realizing the guy on the other side of the wall was feeling conflicted and lost and sad and he wasn't  _there_  to help him feel better. He wanted to reach through the wall and hold his hand or some fucking shit, and wasn't he the biggest douchebag to think about  _holding hands_  in the middle of jerking off?

"It's not about them, Finn," he said, his own fingers on his cock still light, maddening. He'd gone from  _need to come now_ to  _I don't ever want this to be over,_  and it was all about having Finn there with him. "It's not about any other guys. It's just about me, and you. It's always been me and you."  _This is what you do to me,_ he wanted to say, but that totally sounded  _way_ more like cheating. If he just let it be - this, it would be no different than what he and Finn had been doing for weeks.

_Only it's not the same. Now you know what you want._ He tensed, letting his fertile imagination roam freely over all the things he wanted Finn to do to him, but not willing to say them aloud. Not yet. Not until Finn took care of his end of the deal.

But he couldn't help letting Finn hear his groan as he came. He thought Finn might even somehow be able to tell that he was assisting in getting him off, circling his ass with a wet, tentative finger, though in his imagination the action was anything but tentative.

"C'mon," he urged, just one word - but he heard Finn respond immediately. He hadn't been kidding about being loud. If they hadn't been in the bathroom near the choir room, without any other classrooms nearby, Puck would have worried about somebody hearing him.

"Oh, god," Finn whispered, "oh, god, oh, god. Puck."

Puck leaned back on the toilet and let his head drop against the wall. "Yeah, I know."

"I have to talk to Quinn," he said. "Fuck, I  _have_  to."

He snorted. So much for Captain Obvious. "Well, duh."

"I mean - right now." He heard Finn zipping his jeans, pushing through the stall, running water over his hands before Puck could even stand up.

"Dude," he said, "slow down. You're not going to step on Artie's solo just because you're suddenly getting a case of the conscience. Talk to her after school."

When he came out of the stall, Finn's hands were dry. Puck felt the awareness of standing far too close to him, but he didn't move from his spot. He was going to let Finn be the one to walk away.

And Finn took a single glance over his shoulder before he rushed him, put both hands on the sides of his face, and kissed him.

It made Puck shed the hard-to-get act pretty damn quickly, because even if Santana turned out to be completely right about Finn being a bad lay, she'd never said anything about his kissing - and  _fuck,_  he could kiss. The moan that started in his own mouth and spread to Finn's was completely wanton and attempted to convey his very enthusiastic  _yes, you can tongue-fuck my mouth any day of the week, thank you._

When the kiss broke, Finn rested his forehead briefly against Puck's, curling a hand around his neck, before he stepped away, looking right at him.

"I'm going to talk to her," he said. "I promise. This might be freaking me out, but I want it."  _Want you,_  his eyes said, and Puck heard it as clearly as though he'd said it aloud. He nodded a question, his eyebrows high and hopeful.

Puck just nodded back. He wanted to touch his lips and see if they felt any different for having kissed a guy, but he didn't. He wanted to kiss Finn again, but he didn't do that either. He let Finn's tentative smile draw his own smile out.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I want it too."

* * *

The guitar chorus to Artie's song was awesome, but the rest of Glee felt like a game to Puck.  _How long can you keep your eyes off Finn?_  Every few minutes he'd assess his location, thinking  _yeah, he's still six feet to your left and behind you,_ or  _he's right over next to Quinn by the piano,_  and move on with what he was doing.

Finn left with only a brief goodbye for Puck. He didn't wait for a call that night, getting ready for bed, trying to distract himself with other, non-sexy, non-Finn things. But he hadn't been asleep for very long when his phone rang. He fumbled for it in the dark.

" 'Sup," he murmured, squinting at the clock.

"Sam and Quinn," said Finn, sounding close to panic. "They were hugging. At the motel. I think she's - I think she's having an affair. With him. I think they're -"

"Whoa, hold on. You saw them come out of the motel room together?"

"Yeah. Rachel and me, we both saw it."

Puck propped up on one elbow. "Dude. I hate to sound like an asshole, but... didn't you say you were going to talk to Quinn? Because it sounded an awful lot like you were gonna break up with her."

"Yeah. I was. I mean, I am, but... if she's cheating, with Sam, that means we could have been - I mean, I could come over. Right now."

"Uh." That was about all the sound he could make for the next couple seconds, but eventually he licked his lips and focused. "You think it's okay for you to cheat, if she is?"

"Well, yeah?" Finn sighed. "Shit. No. I'm just... I'm so fucking mad at her, because she's doing this, and I'm -  _not_  doing. You."

"Oh, god," Puck whispered. He was suddenly dizzy. "Finn - tell me you're not on your way over here right now."

"Well, I..." He sounded far too defensive for the answer to be anything other than yes. Puck sighed.

"If you come over here, I'm not going to be the responsible one. So - you can't come over, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." He sounded resigned, but the undercurrent of anger was obvious. "She'd better have a hell of a good explanation about this."

"Uh, pot, kettle?" Puck knew he was being a little harsh, but it was the middle of the night, and dammit, he really didn't need to get turned on again. "What are you going to tell her, man?  _You should have told me you were cheating so I could cheat too?"_

"It's stupid. I mean, I hear how stupid that sounds, when you say it like that, and... and I still can't help but wish for that conversation to have already happened, you know? I want this to already be starting."

He rubbed his forehead. "Pretty sure this is already starting, Finn."

"Yeah." He paused. "You sure I can't just come over for a little - ?"

" _No,"_  Puck snapped. "Fuck,  _no_ , and  _no._  Because I would totally jump your bones, okay? There would be all kinds of sex. And I'm really not trying to lose all my guy virginity in one night. Especially on a goddamn  _school night."_

Finn was already laughing by the time he said no the second time. "All right! Not coming over." His voice softened into something appallingly sweet. "You're really awesome, you know that?"

"Yeah. You too. Still can't come over."

"No, it's fine. It's late, and I'm not going to do anything else until I talk to her and figure out what's going on." Finn made a quiet snort. "Here I am, dating the most popular girl in school, and I haven't been able to feel anything close to good about it for... well, ever. But you..."

Puck waited a while, then finally prompted impatiently, "What about me?"

"I'm just really proud of you."

And there he was again, speechless and useless and less all kinds of other things. He cleared his throat. "Uh... you're... what?"

"Proud. And I wish I felt safe enough to show you off to the whole world, but... I guess, until then, I get to have this feeling."

The speechless sensation had spread rapidly, through his chest to his limbs. When it reached his mouth, he was left smiling again. "You're the first person who's ever told me they were proud. Of me."

"Really?" Finn sounded downright pissed about this. "Well, that sucks."

"No... it's okay. I'm glad you're the one who said it." There were far too many things rushing through him at the moment involving what else Finn might be  _first_  at, so he just said, "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you. Good night."

He lay awake in the dark with the phone on his chest, watching the movie of Finn in his imagination. Letting him settle beside him on the bed, drape an arm over his chest. Kiss his neck, right on his hairline, murmur those words into his ear, before finding their way into sleep, together. It was more ridiculous than anything else he'd ever fantasized about Finn, but after today, after  _Finn had kissed him,_  maybe just about anything was possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this story, I happened to watch episode 2x19 Rumours a couple times, mining it for inspiration. Watching the scene where Rachel sings Go Your Own Way was so amusing from the point of view of this story, because Finn (on the drums) and Puck (on the electric guitar) are totally having eyesex with each other through the whole song. Seriously, watch it for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGVbl12osyg
> 
> Thank you to Gleeful Canuck for inspiration for the Sam scene. I'm converting the Finchel shippers, one at a time.
> 
> -amy

It was kind of like torture and kind of like the best of his Nana's soaps, watching Quinn and Finn sing  _I Don't Want to Know._  Finn and Quinn glared back and forth at one another, while Rachel rolled her eyes, Artie looked thoughtfully bitter and Santana and Brittany exchanged their own hurting glances - while Puck sat in the center of all of it, trying to suppress his own stupid-ass grin. Even Finn's outrage at Quinn's insistence he not sing anything with Rachel wasn't going to get him down today. He just watched Finn stomping around scowling and laughed to himself.

But it did start him thinking. He wasn't going to do anything as stupid as try to sing a song to Finn. Puck couldn't think of much that would freak Finn the hell out more than that. But... if there was going to be any kind of progress in this thing, he wanted more people on his side. It just made sense to start with people who were invested in breaking Finn and Quinn up.

"So I was wondering," he said, sliding into a chair beside Rachel and interrupting her constant monologue, "about what song you were going to sing for the Glee assignment."

She looked pleased, of course, because he'd asked her to talk about herself. "Why, Noah, were you considering singing one with me? Because after today's little display of histrionics, I doubt Finn would risk being my duet partner. Quinn's preferences usually take precedence over his."

He gave her a sly grin. "What if I told you Finn had a secret? That he might want to sing to somebody, but he wouldn't dare?"

Rachel's smile slipped. "Finn? He - there's someone else?"

"Oh, yeah," Puck nodded. "Big time. But, like I said, it's still a secret, until Finn's ready to tell. But... if you wanted, you could help him stick it to Quinn anyway."

"She's not in Glee, is she? Because I think I'd  _know,_  even if Finn didn't say anything." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I have a kind of sixth sense about things like this."

Puck struggled to contain his own laughter, but somehow he managed. "You'd never guess in a million years. But Finn would know who the song was for. One catch - you have to sing the guy's part.  _Go Your Own Way."_

Rachel didn't seem fazed. "It's well within my range. So you're saying I'd actually be playing Finn's part, singing the song to Quinn?"

"Something like that." Puck had spent more time than he was willing to admit listening to the remaining album's tracks last night, considering what each might mean. And while  _Go Your Own Way_  was supposed to be a breakup song, there were a lot of other possible meanings. Hidden meanings. Puck didn't think this would end up being too subtle for Finn to catch - especially not if he could get him to agree to the next part. "So you'll do it?"

"Definitely," said Rachel, looking excited.

"Awesome. So if you're not supposed to sing a song with Finn, how about he just... plays the drum part, and does some background vocals? And I'd be on electric guitar, so Quinn could never say the two of you were trying to sneak a duet."

She was already nodding her head. "Honestly, Quinn has no right to say who Finn does or doesn't sing with. This is about what's best for Glee club."

That was all bullshit, every bit of it, but Puck didn't care. Finn was mired in dealing with the fallout from Quinn. While they went over the song after school in the choir room, Puck listened to Rachel ranting about it.

"He's not going to improve the situation by staying with her any longer," she said, fitting the microphone back into the stand with an exasperated shove. "He could just tell her he's done."

"Except he can't," said Puck. "He can't, because he's Finn Fucking Hudson, and he has to do the right thing, even when it's the hardest thing. In his mind, leaving her might be the right thing, but he has to do it his way."

The way she was looking at him... Puck wondered if he looked anything close to that, when he thought about Finn. He might have to stage some kind of self-intervention if he did.

"Yes," she said, close to tears. "You're right. He's always been my white knight. I mean, even if he's not mine anymore, I still love performing with him. Didn't he say he would meet us here soon?"

Finn walked in halfway through their next take, stopping in the door and listening to them sing with a wary expression. "The two of you are doing a duet?"

"No, Finn," said Rachel. She glanced at Puck. "Puck... told me about your secret."

Finn froze. His expression would have been comical if it had been anybody but Finn, anywhere but this situation. "You  _told_  her?"

Rachel held up both hands in patient denial. "He didn't give details. All he said was you had a secret someone you wanted to sing to, and that Quinn wasn't going to be happy about it. So... I'm singing by myself." She put both hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "But I could use a drummer."

Finn stared at the drum set. Then he looked at Puck. "Yeah, okay," he said quietly, "I'll sing with you."

_Loving you isn't the right thing to do  
_ _How can I ever change things that I feel  
_ _If I could maybe I'd give you my world  
_ _How can I when you won't take it from me_

_You can go your own way  
_ _Go your own way  
_ _You can call it another lonely day  
_ _You can go your own way_

The hardest part wasn't figuring out what harmonies Fleetwood Mac used, or keeping up with Rachel's dramatic performance, or even playing the electric guitar solo, which totally wasn't Puck's thing. It was making it through the song while keeping his eyes off Finn. It was a lot harder than it had been when Finn was strumming an A chord and an E chord on the guitar. Now, Finn was in his element. He was doing something he was really good at, which by the way was really fucking sexy, and even though the words were coming out of Rachel's mouth, it was damn clear who was singing to whom.

_Tell me why everything turned around  
_ _Packing up, shacking up is all you wanna do  
_ _If I could, baby, I'd give you my world  
_ _Open up, everything's waiting for you_

_You can go your own way  
_ _Go your own way  
_ _You can call it another lonely day  
_ _You can go your own way_

When they were done, Finn was breathless and staring fixedly at the rim of his snare, and Puck decided it would be better if he refrained from setting down his guitar until Rachel was gone. Luckily, she seemed oblivious to all of it, beaming at Finn and talking a mile a minute about the details. Puck couldn't give a shit about the  _details;_  he just wanted Rachel to  _go home now_  so he could say the things to Finn that were waiting on his tongue.

Rachel paused in her enthusiastic monologue to touch Finn's hand. "Quinn's not going to be happy with you. Or me, but I can take it."

He set his drumsticks down and cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, I think... she's going to have to decide. If she can't handle it, I don't think this is going to work out."

She smiled sadly. "I think that might be for the best, don't you?"

"Maybe for me. Not so good for Glee, though."

Puck could see the guilt covering Finn, hunching him over. He sighed in irritation. "You don't always have to think about everybody else, you know."

"Yeah, well, if you'll remember last year at Regionals, I was pretty selfish then, and look how that turned out." Finn met Puck's eyes now. He could see the apology there, and Finn's resignation, along with an undercurrent of energy that was making it hard for Puck to sit still. He forced his gaze back to the empty mid-distance between them and waited some more, but eventually it became clear that Rachel wasn't going anywhere.

"Finn, you're forgetting who won Regionals for us." She gave his arm a little shake, smiling encouragement. "You're the one who makes things happen. Thinking about yourself  _is_  good for the group, because when you're the lead male vocalist, you're..." She trailed off.

"More important than anyone else?" said Puck.

"Well. To a degree, yes. Finn's our star." Her arm tightened possessively on his arm. "You can't deny he's important."

"Sure." Puck grinned at Finn, watching his face turn red. "I think I have some kind of an idea just how important he is." He headed for the door, slinging his backpack on one shoulder and carrying his Gibson's case in the other.

"Puck?" Finn sounded more than a little anxious.

He didn't turn around. "Gotta head home. Call me later, after you take care of your business. We'll sing tomorrow."

It was better to put a little space between himself and Finn. The longer they spent together, the more likely it was he was going to do something really obvious or something really desperate, or both. And Finn was still, technically, in cheating range. However long he took to talk to Quinn, Puck was better off waiting somewhere else.

But Puck didn't hear from Finn at all that evening, not until well past an ordinary school night bedtime. Puck was still awake, but when he saw the call come in, he considered letting it go to voice mail, he was so irritated. Finally, he sighed and punched  _Answer._

"Dude," he snapped. "Way to blow the anticipation. What's going on? I thought for sure I'd hear from you after school. And if you decided to forget about it, just... lie to me or something, I don't know."

"No. Not forgetting about it." Finn sounded just as exasperated as he did. "Quinn and I have been arguing since seven-thirty. She insists she's not cheating on me with Sam, but she won't give me any details about what she  _has_  been doing. And I've thrown several not-so-hypothetical situations out there, just to be sure."

He leaned back slowly on his pillow. "How... not so hypothetical are we talking, here?

Finn gave a short laugh. "Like,  _what if you were talking about sex with some guy and he got turned on, would that be cheating?"_

Puck waited several beats before adding, "And it wouldn't be, would it?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On whether the people talking about sex wanted to have sex together or not. If not, it's not cheating; if they did, it is." He sighed. "So we're still arguing; I told her I was getting some ice water. I'd better go."

"Yeah. Good luck."

Finn groaned softly. "You keep saying that. You really think there's anything  _lucky_  about this whole damned situation?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," said Puck. "I'd say you're one fucking conversation away from getting really fucking lucky."

He thought Finn might have decided not to answer that, which, really, he wouldn't blame him. But then he heard him take a long, slow breath.  _Yeah,_  he thought.  _Right there with you, man._

"Okay, that was... inspirational. You really expect me to go back in that room like this?"

"I can guarantee it's not going to get any easier if we stay on the phone, dude. Just... I'm going to bed. Don't forget your drumsticks tomorrow."

He couldn't even add a joke about the drumsticks. Puck tossed the phone onto his desk, running his hands over his face with a groan. Then he quickly shed his clothes onto the floor, giving up on the idea of waiting for better inspiration than that. He didn't bother with the boxers; he just locked his door and grabbed the hand lotion, slicking both hands up. Finn was fucking missing out. Or missing out fucking, or whatever.

It occurred to Puck about halfway through - after he'd already worked one finger way too deep inside himself to pretend he was thinking about anything other than the obvious - that he might be making some pretty big assumptions about what Finn was willing to do with him. Or even interested in doing. As far as he knew, he hadn't even gotten to third base with Quinn. Aside from that one time with Santana, Puck was pretty sure Finn didn't have much experience at all.

That could have been an intimidating thought, but Puck was used to being the kinky one with experience. The fact that it was the first time he'd ever wanted to do anything with a guy was kind of beside the point. What he  _wasn't_  used to was doing anything with anybody who didn't really love what he was doing to them.

Which meant one thing:  _Finn's going to have to be the one calling the shots. I'm not going to pressure him into doing anything. And... fuck._

It wasn't entirely unsatisfactory, making himself come while imagining Finn fucking him from behind, but it wasn't anything close to the same as doing it with Finn listening. It was  _that_  thought that finally nudged him over the edge, whining and thrusting against his own fingers.  _Finn. Finn doesn't have to be on the other side of a door to listen. He could do it sitting right there next to me. He could watch. He could hold my hand when I'm coming. Maybe he'd join in._ The details didn't much matter to his brain, apparently, as long as Finn could be there to witness them.

The details did follow him into his dreams, however. He woke late for school, hard and wickedly frustrated, but he had to ignore it as best as he could or risk scoring another absence.

Puck's drive to school was more than a little reckless, but he managed to park his truck and made his way to class without incident. He saw Finn in the hall on the way to second period. He didn't stop him to talk; he barely made eye contact. Until Finn did something really obvious to change things, he was going to let him alone.

The obvious thing happened just after Spanish, on the way to Glee. Finn fell into step beside him, glancing up and down the hallway.

"We're going to do this," he said an undertone. Puck tried to ignore the strange leaping sensation in his chest.

"What, sing this song? Pretty sure Berry's counting on us, yeah."

Finn put out a hand to his chest, stopping his progress. There was that determined look again. "No, I mean... me and Quinn. I'm going to tell her, after school today. We're done." His mouth quirked. "For the good of the group."

"Dude." Puck made an effort to conceal his smile, but he was pretty sure he was doing a piss-poor job of it. Finn stared at the floor, blushing furiously.

"Well, I couldn't let Quinn hold the whole group hostage by telling me who I could or couldn't sing with. So... yeah. It's the best choice for them. Um, us. Us meaning - the group."

The smile was definitely winning. "Oh, Finn Hudson," he cooed in his best falsetto. "You're my white knight."

"Shut up," Finn muttered, giving him a little shove. His face was well on its way to crimson.

Rachel stood up in the middle of Glee and declared she was singing the Lindsay Buckingham song by "putting her own feminine spin on it." But Puck was pretty sure Quinn wasn't frowning at them like that because of anything Rachel was doing. No, Quinn was too savvy by half. He decided he would have to have his own conversation with her once he and Finn had worked things out on their own.

Even Sam's bombshell about his family losing their house and moving into the motel couldn't crush his mood after that song. He left the rest of Glee whispering and gossiping to one another and carried his guitar out to his truck, sending a text on the way.

_I'll meet you at your house in fifteen, and if you're late, I'll eat all the pizza._

Finn didn't reply, which he figured was a good sign; maybe he and Quinn were already talking. On the way to Finn's house, Puck called Fat Jack's and ordered the pizza with half hamburger and extra cheese and half ham and pineapple - but when he got to the Hudson-Hummel residence, he discovered Mrs. Hudson-Hummel's station wagon in the driveway.  _Shit. So much for an empty house and no pressure._ Not that Finn's mom wasn't awesome, but this was not the time for a conversation over cookies and milk.

On his way up the front walk, he considered what would happen if he took this opportunity to tell her what was actually going on.  _Well, Mrs. H, see, Finn's been doing this thing for me at school, just helping me out, you know, the kind of thing a best friend would do... and now I'm here to return the favor. Assuming he wants that._

"Hey, Noah," Mrs. Hudson-Hummel said when she answered the door, smiling. "You look cheerful today. Finn's not home yet, I'm afraid..."

"No, I know... he's meeting me here. He had to talk to Quinn for a minute."  _A very brief minute,_  he promised himself, not glancing at the clock over the table in the hallway. "Okay if I wait here for him?"

She held open the door, beckoning him inside. "Of course. There's homemade banana bread on the counter; can I cut you a slice?"

"I ordered pizza, actually." But he didn't say no as she led him into the kitchen, placing the bread on the cutting board and sawing off a moist, thick piece. He gave her an appreciative nod as she buttered it and placed it in his hand.

"So what are you and Finn up to today?"

He was saved from having to answer this awkward and potentially disasterous question by the sound of Kurt's Navigator pulling up in the driveway. Seconds later, he heard the front door open, and Finn appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, looking stricken.

"Hi, Mom," he said, glancing between the two of them. "Um -"

"Puck," Kurt cut in smoothly, setting his messenger bag down next to the counter. "I hope you and Carole weren't having an important conversation, or anything."

Puck looked hard at Kurt's face, then at Finn's agitated state.  _Holy shit, he told him. Finn told Kurt about this, just now, on the way home._

"Nothing that can't wait until later," he said.

Kurt gave him a tight nod, then laid a hand on Mrs. Hudson-Hummel's back. "Any chance I could steal you away for a little fashion convo? Blaine and I are at odds about what I should be wearing for prom this year." He shot Finn a meaningful look, steering Carole toward the front door, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

Puck stepped in close to him, his elbow brushing against Finn's. "You fucking told him?"

Finn nodded, closing his eyes. "He saw me freak out after I talked to Quinn. I couldn't - he could tell something was up, and - he's my  _brother,_  and -"

"Hey," said Puck, and Finn stopped talking. He swallowed, looking close to panic. Puck heard the front door slam. The house was quiet enough that he could hear his own thundering heartbeat. He reached up and rested one palm on Finn's chest, listening to his rapid breathing. "Dude. Relax. I'm not mad."

Finn's eyes hadn't reached Puck's yet; they seemed to be stuck on his chin, or maybe his mouth. "No?"

"No, it's cool. I mean, you can tell... whoever you want to tell." He raised his other hand to rest on Finn's hip. Finn's had come up at some point to encircle his waist.  _What, are you going to invite him to prom or something?_  the voice inside him taunted, but he was ignoring it. Right now, Finn had his complete attention. "This is your life, man. I'm not Quinn. You can do... what you want."

"Yeah?" said Finn softly. He was smiling a little, his arms tightening around him.

"Yeah." Puck was having a hard time keeping his focus, with that smile so close to his mouth.  _Letting him make the first move,_  he reminded himself.

Finn's fingers came up to brush the back of Puck's neck. Each touch of his skin was doing funny things to his breathing. "What if what I want is to... go take a shower?"

"Um." Puck laughed. "Hell of a first move, Hudson."

Finn's smile widened, his head tilting as he leaned in closer. Puck could feel the impact of every word he spoke against his mouth. "I've got a couple of plays in my pocket. Thought I'd try them out on you and see... how you respond."

This kiss was more calm than their first, but not one iota less intense. Puck followed Finn's lead, matching his pace and pressure, but after a few heartbeats of that, he couldn't resist cupping the back of Finn's head to deepen the kiss. When it broke, they were both gasping. Every point of contact along the front of Puck's body was lighting up, like that old  _Operation_  game he and Finn used to play after school on the Hudson's dining room table.  _Finn's got my spare ribs. I think he's got all my organs now. I'm being disemboweled by my best friend's tongue._  It wasn't even disgusting, in his mind. Finn could do whatever the fuck he wanted to him with that tongue.

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good," he breathed. "I'll - yeah." He took a step back, putting a cushion of air between them, trying to clear his head. "God, Finn. You sure you know what you're doing here? 'Cause I'm not all that motivated to... put on the brakes, if you know what I mean."

Finn gnawed on his bottom lip, but he nodded slowly. "Yeah... I don't know if I'm ready for everything, but... I trust you. And I want this. I told Kurt, all this stuff that felt so weird with Santana and so intimidating with Quinn and Rachel... with you, it just feels good."

Puck felt his shoulders relax. He hadn't even known he was holding the tension until it was gone. He nodded back, smiling. "Yeah. I'm glad. That's how it should feel. And I don't want you to do anything that doesn't feel good like that, okay? Really. I'm not gonna push you, and -"

Finn closed the distance between them in one quick movement, kissing Puck again, transforming the rest of his sentence into meaningless, strangled moans. Whatever he'd been about to say, it totally didn't matter, not even a little bit. The kiss ended when Finn started laughing.

"Glad I can provide you with a little light humor," Puck said, but he had to grin back. "That's not the response I'm used to when I kiss a chick."

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't noticed, I'm not much of a chick." Finn shook his head. He brushed the fingers of one hand along Puck's scalp, making him shiver. "I'm just - this whole thing. It's kind of blowing my mind, you know? And I keep having this moment, over and over again, where I realize exactly what's going on, and - just, god, this is the hottest fucking thing I've ever done, and that's kind of amazing all by itself, but - then I realize it's  _you._ And I just -" He laughed again, completely unselfconscious, his eyes shining. "I didn't even know I could  _feel_  like this."

"That sounds like a challenge." Puck took one more deep breath, letting his own giddy amazement, and Finn's certainty, fill his lungs. "You still up for that shower? Because I bet I can make you  _feel_  a hell of a lot of things, if you don't mind me joining you."

"Yeah," Finn agreed, "that sounds... perfect. Whenever you're ready to join me."

Finn's smile stayed in the room, like that Cheshire cat grin from  _Alice in Wonderland,_  even after he disappeared upstairs. The sensation of it was so palpable, Puck thought he might be able to reach up and touch it.

 _Perfect,_  he echoed. Whatever the hell was going on, he was pretty sure he'd never felt this perfect, at least not before coming, not at any time in his life. He was also pretty sure none of the words he would generally apply to this kind of experience were going to be adequate. He was resisting using any of them because he didn't want to cheapen it, or oversimplify it, or do anything other than  _live it._

When he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear the water running in the hall bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and two clean towels were stacked on the sink. Puck watched the shower curtain rustle, heard the subtle noises of Finn moving under the spray.  _Soaping himself up._  The image was so sharply erotic that Puck had to brace himself against the wall to keep from stumbling.

He put a hand out and touched the shower curtain. "Finn?"

"I'm here," Finn replied.

For a moment, it was like they were back in the men's room, with a wall of particle board separating them. And then Finn pulled the curtain aside, and they were face to face, inches away from one another. Finn looked as startled as Puck felt, to have the barrier between them cast aside so suddenly, the skin and water and breath and eyes, god, Finn's eyes on him. Puck felt like he was the one who was naked.

"You're - sure this is okay?" Finn asked.

Puck tore his shirt off his head, tossing it on the floor. "Completely. Fucking awesome, that's what it is."

Finn's smile made him smile, and then he snickered. By the time he'd removed all his clothes, they were both laughing, from nerves as much as anything, but Puck climbing into the shower to face Finn silenced them again. They stared at each other, shivering, though the spray was steaming and the environment comfortably humid. And even though he'd spent the last eight years being around Finn's body, and the last several weeks fantasizing about it, actually being this close to it, when Finn was turned on, and he was turned on... that was another matter entirely.

"I don't," said Finn desperately, looking anywhere but at Puck's erection, "I mean, I've never -"

"I know, man." Puck reached out and placed a hand on Finn's wet, soapy chest. "Your call. I thought I'd just, you know. Do my thing." He gripped his cock in one hand, watching Finn's eyes flicker down, back up again. Finn make a small noise. The noise nearly undid him, but he finished his sentence: "And you can just do whatever... you want."

Finn watched him with wide eyes. "You want me to listen? Like this? When I can... see?"

"Whatever you want," Puck repeated. He began to stroke himself, slowly and steadily, because this could easily be over in minutes if he wasn't methodical about it. "All this time, you've been doing this for me, because it's hot and I got off to it. Well, now it's your turn to figure out what gets you off. You like to watch? Be my guest."

It was a little more like  _please, god, yes,_  but Puck didn't want to scare him off. Finn already looked overwhelmed by Puck standing there jerking off in front of him. Puck closed his eyes, thinking maybe Finn would feel better able to relax if he didn't feel so on display. Unfortunately, that started his own fantasies playing, his personal peep show cinema, starring Finn Hudson, spreading him wide against the wall of that shower and making him take it. He groaned, adjusting his stance a little - and his eyes flew open as his stroking hand bumped against Finn's abdomen.

Finn was  _right there._ He was - Puck swallowed - as close as he'd been downstairs, when Finn had been holding him, kissing him, but now he was naked and hard and kind of hovering over Puck's skin, waiting.

"I - want," Finn said, exhaling. "To kiss you. While you do that."

Puck nodded, just enough to convey his  _yes, do that right now,_  and Finn dove in, giving Puck all kinds of reasons to wish he'd been doing this for  _years_  with him. He kind of wanted to stop to get some soap for his hand, and he kind of never wanted to ever ever ever stop doing what he was doing. His compromise was to rub his cock up against Finn's soapy stomach, gathering the slippery suds. It was a belated worry that this might be unpleasant or too forward, but the noise Finn made when he did it was all the reassurance he needed.

"I think I can say this without needlessly inflating your ego," Puck said, his head wedged in tight against Finn's neck, "but you are the best fucking kisser."

Finn's grin was preferable to the near-freakout expression. "You get good at a thing when it's the only thing you're allowed to do, I guess."

"Well, those days are over." He angled his fist and the strokes so they hit Finn's pelvis squarely in the space between his leg and his thigh. He didn't even care what the motion implied about what he might want to do to Finn. He just wasn't going to bother worrying about how gay it all was anymore. That not-exactly-gay ship had sailed weeks ago, when he'd started fingering himself and picturing his best friend doing it.

Finn cocked his head, moving in a little closer. Was he spreading his legs? Puck whimpered. "I don't get it. What do you mean?"

"I mean, now, you're allowed to do anything," said Puck. "Everything you've been wanting to do, you get to do it." He backtracked, or attempted to: "Only if you want it. You don't get... to do anything you don't want to do." God, he was just making it worse. He gave up and tried kissing Finn again, because that at least he felt like was something he could be sure Finn really wanted.

And then Finn's hand wrapped around his, the hand that was stroking his own cock. Puck's hand went slack, making room for Finn's long, slender fingers to interlace with his. Finn made an amazed, gratified  _oh._

"I want to do this for you," Finn said, "while you - touch me."

Puck's hand immediately disengaged from Finn's and went for the soap, because while he could live without lube for himself, it seemed like bad form to try to get away without it with Finn. "Yeah, man, I'll jerk you off."

"Um." Finn's face was bright red, stopping his hand before it could grasp Finn's cock. "No, I mean... your fingers. Touch me. I - I'll show you where."

Puck's jaw hung slack while Finn, with great deliberation and intent, took his hand and guided it to the taut strip of skin between his balls and his ass. As he pressed Puck's fingers against the muscle, his eyes fluttered closed, and he nodded.

"Yeah," he said breathlessly, gripping himself. "Yeah... like that..."

"Oh fuck," Puck whispered, and he bucked twice into his fist before coming all over Finn's stomach.

Finn barely responded; he appeared to be lost in his own personal bliss. Puck did his very best, in his post-orgasmic bliss, to keep the pressure even and strong on Finn's perineum while Finn stroked himself to what sounded like a hell of a climax. He resisted the urge to let his finger slip and enter Finn as he came, because, as much as he wanted to blow Finn's mind, consent wasn't simply a good idea.  _And, what the hell, we might as well save a few new things to try next time,_  he thought in a daze, slumping against him.

And then they heard someone clear his throat.

They both froze. Puck's first thought was  _hey, it's Finn,_ but obviously that was impossible. He glanced up at Finn's wary expression, then moved under the spray to rinse off.

"Dude, you might as well say something," Puck said. "Whoever you are."

"Uh," said Sam. "Would you believe... pizza delivery?"

* * *

Sam was kind of maniacally apologetic, explaining a mile a minute about how Mrs. Hudson-Hummel had caught him in the driveway on her way out with Kurt, talking with him for long enough that he started to worry about the temperature of the pizza, and that she'd mentioned Finn was in the house with Puck and that he could  _just go right into the kitchen._  And when he'd done that, and found the remains of their snack and Puck's guitar and Finn's backpack, he'd assumed he'd find them upstairs.

Finn, after the initial shock had worn off, was taking the whole thing very well. He shook his head, looking amused. "Yeah, you found us all right."

Puck wasn't sure how to ask  _How long did you listen before you said something?_  without being an ass about it, because Sam was clearly already desperately embarrassed. But it wasn't until Puck went to pay him for the pizza that he realized exactly  _what_  Sam was embarrassed about.

"You're making money for your family, delivering pizzas," said Puck, and Sam nodded, tucking the bills in his pocket.

"It's the only job I could find where I could work around my school hours and babysitting my brother and sister. I can't even play the guitar for tips anymore because I sold my guitar at the pawn shop downtown." He sighed, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Dudes. I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."

Puck moved closer to Finn, not touching him, but close enough to feel the heat of his skin. "Well... it's kind of a new thing. Like, really new. I don't know how much secret-keeping we're going to be doing." He glanced up at Finn's startled expression and shrugged. "And, really, Sam, you don't need to keep your own secret, either. Everybody in Glee knows, and if that's as far as you want it to go, I can make sure nobody blabs, but you shouldn't be embarrassed about the economy sucking."

"Mmm." Sam gave them a wry grin. "Any more than the two of you should be embarrassed about cheating on your girlfriends with each other?"

"I broke up with Quinn this afternoon," said Finn. Puck noticed he didn't say  _we didn't cheat,_ but Sam looked impressed anyway.

"Lauren dumped me when I told her I was - that there was somebody else," Puck told him. "And dude,  _I'm_  embarrassed about you walking in on us in the fucking  _shower."_

Sam and Finn both laughed, but Sam looked relieved to take his generous tip and head back to work. Finn leaned heavily on the door, watching him drive off.

"Well, that was totally awkward." He shook his head. "Having to sell his guitar... that's rough. I wonder if we could buy it back?"

Puck grinned. "You really are the fucking white knight, aren't you?"

Finn's protest was muted by his startled pleasure at Puck moving in to press him up against the door, kissing him hard. Finn took Puck's head in his hands, holding their heads together.

"That, in the shower," whispered Finn, "that was - was that too weird?"

Puck had to laugh. "Not by a long shot, man. There are way too many things I want you to do to me that qualify as way weirder than that."

Finn let out a slow breath. "Okay. Because that was  _so_  good. And I think we should eat this pizza before I try to get you naked again, upstairs on my bed."

They demolished all but two slices, sitting close enough to touch but not really doing that, just letting occasional brushes of hands and thighs and lips against skin say what they weren't willing to speak aloud. But Puck could feel it, hovering in the air, more like a threat than a promise. He had no idea what Finn would think if he said it, and he wasn't about to find out. Whatever this was, or however long it was going to last, he wasn't going to ruin it with ridiculous declarations of... whatever.

Finn picked a piece of ham off Puck's last slice, glancing at him. "So, you, uh... you really want to tell people about this? About you and me?"

"Honestly? I don't know if I can keep it under wraps." He leaned against Finn, feeling his arm around him, his strong hand resting on his shoulder, and sighed. "It's more about the practical than it is about the proud. Not that I don't think you're totally awesome, because you are. I just don't think I'm a whole lot different than I was before I realized I want you to fuck me in the ass."

Finn dropped the ham, choking a little, but he was grinning. "Um... yeah. I was thinking along the same lines, kind of." His voice went a little hoarse and awed. "You really want me to do that to you?"

"Yes. Fuck yeah." Puck gripped Finn's wrist, holding it tight. "Like, a lot."

Finn stared into his hopeful face. "That's... a lot of trust you'd be putting in me."

Puck kept his expression completely serene. "Yeah, well, it's nothing compared to what you'd be putting in me."

Finn didn't stop laughing for almost a full minute, not even while he wrestled Puck to the floor and kissed him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started with this pairing in the Donutverse two years ago, and I wrote Road Trip about them; they show up in all my stories as best bros or complications in each other's love lives. I love Puck/Finn. Don't miss [the new Pinn community on livejournal](http://pinn.livejournal.com/), and [happy Pinn Week](http://pinnweek.tumblr.com/), starting May 12! Thanks for reading, everybody. 
> 
> -amy

 

Puck took off before Kurt and Carole could return and catch him there at Finn's. After that encounter in the Hudmel kitchen, he really didn't want to be there to see the daggers or ninja throwing stars or studded batons or whatever he suspected Kurt would be tossing at Finn all night.

Puck would have a chance to talk to Kurt at some point, he was sure, and he'd deal with whatever demands Kurt might make of him then. But for now, Kurt could just sit his ass down and wait for things to play out. Whatever was going to happen next, it wasn't Kurt's game to play, or even watch.  _This is ours. Mine, and Finn's._ He was feeling absurdly protective of it.

What he wasn't sure what to do was how to handle it with other people. People were starting to find out, which meant he and Finn weren't really going to be able to keep it a secret. Quinn might not know details yet, but she would figure it out eventually. Sam and Kurt might not tell, but like the rest of the events inspiring rumors in Glee, somebody would notice that they were hiding things. Truth had a way of leaking out around the edges of things.

This had never been so apparent to Puck as it was tonight. He stopped to pick up subs for dinner, and the girl at the counter smiled at him, saying, "You look happy." What could he say in return?  _My best friend has decided orgasms are included in the job description, and I really dig that idea?_  By the time he'd figured out what to say, the moment had passed, and he was already being shuffled to the side with his receipt.

He ate and played Mario Kart with Sarah until bedtime, but his thoughts were on Finn, the things they'd done and said that afternoon at his house, and particularly in the shower. Whatever Finn had or hadn't done with Rachel or Quinn, in that moment he'd totally known what he wanted, and what he wanted was so fucking hot, Puck could barely stand it. He didn't even care what Finn wanted to do or didn't want to do. Okay, maybe he cared a little, but it wasn't going to make him bolt just because Finn might be nervous about sticking things in his butt.

Giving Finn freedom to make up his own mind about what to do was even harder now that he knew Finn and Quinn weren't together anymore, because whatever Finn might not want to do, Puck was pretty sure he could make him like it anyway. Sex was awesome, and the opportunity to show Finn all the stuff he knew was more exciting than the prospect of flying to New York City for Nationals. But it was okay. He could wait. Maybe.

He lay on his bed, playing his guitar and kind of distractedly rubbing his half-hard cock through his jeans, trying to decide for way too long if he should just give up on Finn or try calling him himself, when his phone rang.

"We went to see Sam," Finn told him. "Me and Rachel. Mostly we wanted him to know it was okay. But, dude, the motel room. They sold almost all their stuff. There was  _nothing_  left."

"Did you bring him his guitar back?"

"Yeah... it made him cry. But I think he was upset about more than just that. He was all,  _you've seen the way information flies around that school; you think people would have treated me the same way after they found out?"_  Finn sighed. "If Sam thinks that would make him a freak, what would it be like for us? If we - I mean, if you and I tried to -"

"It's okay, man," Puck said softly. He adjusted his guitar on his lap. "We don't have to tell anybody."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Finn's voice was tense, but not in an unhappy way. Anticipatory. It made Puck's dick sit up and take notice, like Finn's voice was the hand, waiting to stroke him. "You broke up with Lauren, and I broke up with Quinn, for no reason? No way. Like I told Kurt, this is different."

Puck placed his fingers on the fretboard, hammering on the A, then the E, back and forth, letting them ring. "Different."

"It matters more. It's not like I didn't like Quinn a whole lot, even love her, but... she's not  _you._ "

It made him feel uneasy, listening to Finn trying to process the situation on his own. "You're way overthinking this shit, Finn. Just get the fuck over here, and we'll figure it out."

"You sure?" He could hear Finn's smile now, which was way better than that sigh. "If I come over there, I think we're running a serious risk of stuff happening."

"Woe betide the stuff. Pretty sure  _stuff_  happened in the shower earlier, dude." There came that memory again, crashing down on him. "And I was totally into it, and so were you. So, I don't know... now's the time you should say something about any stuff you really don't want to do."

Finn took a long breath. "I don't think I can do that. I mean, I'm not even sure I know about all the stuff that's out there, but... I'd be willing to bet I'd try just about any of it with you."

That sounded just freaking awesome to Puck, but he was going to stick with his earlier plan to let Finn lead. "Exactly," he managed. His voice didn't even crack or anything. "Sarah's on her way to bed. You could come over for a while, if you want."

"You're basically saying, come over so we can fool around?"

"Only if you want to," Puck amended. "No pressure."

"I want to," Finn said, though he didn't sound completely sure. "See you in a few."

It wasn't the getting off part he was craving, though that part was looking to be way more fun than he'd anticipated. It was the no-more-walls part, where he could look and touch and Finn could look and touch and nobody was going to freak out anymore. He hoped. His own emotions were running a little high.

While he waited, Puck strummed the guitar part to the song off the  _Rumours_  album he'd never in a million years sing for Finn:

_For you, there'll be no more crying,_  
 _For you, the sun will be shining,_  
 _And I feel that when I'm with you,  
_ _It's all right, I know it's right_

_To you, I'll give the world_  
 _To you, I'll never be cold_  
 _'Cause I feel that when I'm with you,  
_ _It's all right, I know it's right._

It wasn't what he wanted to say to him. It was what he wanted Finn to know already, so they never had to bother wondering. Hell, he'd always thought that about Finn, and it didn't have anything to do with finding him hot or wanting him to do  _stuff._  It was just the way they were, and why the hell hadn't he thought about this before? He didn't need to sing a fucking song to Finn. Finn  _was_ the music.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and it was kind of amazing how quickly his dick had developed ears, because it sure sat up and took notice.  _Finn's here now, and that means it's time to get off._  But when he opened the door, Puck found himself clutching the neck of his guitar, oddly reluctant to be without it.

"Hey." He looked at the bed, at the desk chair, the floor. "Uh..."

"Your mom totally doesn't have any idea what's going on, does she?" Finn had a strange smile on his face.

"Not to my knowledge," he said slowly. "What's going on?"

"I was just thinking about all the girls you've... done, on this bed." He sat in the desk chair and began unlacing his shoes, not taking his eyes off Puck and his guitar. Whenever Finn Hudson had started to be a turn-on for Puck, he couldn't exactly be sure, but he sure as shit was now, and Finn staring at him like that, like he was the most delicious snack you could get -  _that_ was doing things to him. But Finn was still talking. "She wouldn't have let them come in your room and shut the door like this."

"Probably not," he agreed. "Your point?"

He dropped the second sneaker, kicking them under the bed, and crawled onto the bed next to Puck, who just clutched the guitar harder. He really wanted to put it down, but somehow he couldn't make his hands let go.  _Cockblocked by my own musical instrument. Fuck my life._  Finn didn't seem bothered by Puck sitting there with the guitar on his lap, though. He was just sitting there, still smiling.

"Kurt practically ran me over when he and my mom got back from the mall. Do you want to know what he said?"

Puck had no idea if he did or not, but he nodded anyway. Finn chuckled, his cheeks pink.

"Well, in the car on the way home, I told him. About you, and why Quinn had stormed off after I talked to her, and what that song in Glee was really about. After he finished freaking out at me for not being into him sophomore year, he asked how far we'd gone. And I told him not very far, but I wanted to?"

"Fuck, Hudson," Puck muttered, squirming on the bed.

"So when he got back, I was putting away the pizza - like, into plastic bags, with each piece face to face, with the cheese in, you know, so it won't get all over the microwave when I -"

"Finn."

"Uh, yeah..." Finn shook his head, briefly hiding his face in his enormous hands. "Sorry. So he said,  _how far have you gone now,_ and I said,  _Sam walked in on us in the shower,_  and he shrieked and Burt and my mom came running, and, um. I told them. About you and me."

Puck knew he had no reason to freak out. The Hudson-Hummels were cool beyond reason, and they already had one gay son, and they'd always treated him well. He kept his breathing even and calm, watching Finn's expression. "Yeah? How'd that go?"

"Well, they were surprised." Finn laughed, sounding surprised and helpless and Puck had to laugh, too. He was even able to pick up his guitar and put it on top of its case, on the floor. "I don't know, man. I don't think they exactly believed me. My mom... she was worried about Quinn, and Kurt was all  _haven't you heard of bisexuality,_  but all I could think about was this afternoon and I can't think of anything else."

Puck wasn't exactly struck dumb by this statement. None of it was a surprise; Finn had told him all of this earlier. And yet being here on this bed with Finn... that felt like a big deal in a way that nothing up until this point had. He wasn't going to put his usual moves on Finn; that'd be stupid, but that meant he had no idea what to do.  _Just wait,_  he told himself.  _Finn's making the moves, not you. Wait._

"So I was kind of thinking about that, all the way over here, and how my mom kind of gave me the most awkward safe sex talk ever, just before I walked out the door -"

"No shit," Puck broke in, laughing. There went one more barrier between them. He found himself reaching out for Finn's hand, and Finn took it, clutching it hard. Puck's cock made a wrenching throb in response. His smile was kind of taking over his face.

"Yeah, I know. I'm surprised she let me come over here at all. But - dude, your Ma, she's not going to take it very well, is she?"

"You think I give a shit what my Ma ever thought about the girls I was fucking? The cougars I was doing, she'd run into them at synagogue and at the grocery store. It's my life." He could feel Finn pulling gently on his hand as he spoke, which made it harder for him to keep the bravado going. Which made him question why he was bothering, anyway, because this was Finn, and wasn't the whole point that he could tell him anything? Puck sighed, scooting over on the bed to sit next to him. "No, you're right; she's probably going to throw a fit."

"Yeah." Finn slipped an arm around his shoulder. It felt more companionable than anything else, but that didn't stop the tension in Puck's stomach from rising. He let his hand slip out of Finn's, coming to rest on his thigh, and stroked it with a sense of wonder.  _I could do anything,_  he thought in a daze.  _I could offer to suck his cock, right here, and he'd probably let me._ That wasn't exactly letting Finn lead, but it was entirely possible that that was going to come out of his mouth,  _let me suck your cock._ Except Finn took a little breath, and asked softly, "Um - so can I lock your door?"

Puck stopped the groan before it made it past his lips. He nodded, following it up with, "Yeah, yeah, man," when he had some self-control back. He watched as Finn stood up and went back to the door, fiddling with the handle until he was satisfied. When he turned back to Puck, his expression was troubled.

"I don't want to lie to your mom any more than I want to lie to anybody else," he said. Finn's hand moved restlessly on the leg of his jeans, and Puck's attention was drawn to the outline of his cock, thick and straight alongside his zipper. "I just have to figure out a way to handle this so's she doesn't keep me from seeing you. Because I... that would suck."

"That would suck," Puck echoed, a little hoarsely. He traced the edge of his fly with two fingers, watching Finn's eyes follow them. "There's never been a time when I told my Ma everything I did. I really don't have to start now. And, god, Finn, are you going to make a move here, or do I have to do it for you?"

"A move?" Finn paused, comically surprised. Puck restrained his snort. "You're wanting me to -"

"You're driving, Hudson," he said, feeling suddenly tired. "Whatever you want, you'd better say something, or else you're gonna be waiting another seventeen years for a guy to offer to suck your cock."

Finn rocked back on both heels like Puck had given him a short, sharp push in the center of his chest. "Oh," he gulped. "I - yeah. Actually, that sounds amazing, but I was thinking..." He gestured to Puck's bed in a vague, all-encompassing sweep. "I mean, I've been... listening, all these weeks..."

"Yeah?" Puck's voice came out breathless, anxious even. It would have been mortifying if he'd been with anybody else.  _But you're not with anybody else,_  he reminded himself.  _You're with Finn._

Finn nodded, keeping his eyes on Puck's as he rubbed the length of his cock with his thumb. "I think it'd be nice to watch you, this time. While I listen."

The barrage of memories of who he'd been thinking of these past weeks, while he jacked off in the bathroom stall to Finn's silent sentry, knocked him back against the wall, and he closed his eyes against the force of them. "I've been kind of... watching you, already. In my head."

"Oh, yeah?" Finn sounded anticipatory, and Puck smiled.

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint you, but it was all pretty tame. Thinking of you standing there, listening, kind of watching you... just being you."  _Fuck._  It sounded completely stupid when he said it aloud, even if what he really meant was  _I couldn't take my eyes off you, even when it was only in my imagination._  Or, worse, it sounded like he was being a total stalker. He sighed impatiently. "I didn't even know I thought you were hot until a couple days ago, for fuck's sake."

"It doesn't matter." When Puck opened his eyes again, Finn wasn't standing any closer, but he'd moved the desk chair to face him across from the bed. "Do you... would you mind, um..."

_Anything,_  Puck would have insisted, but he had enough sense to hold his tongue. "Just ask, okay?"

Finn nodded. "I want to watch you take off your clothes."

Puck had done his share of sexy stripteases, but that's not what Finn was asking for here. Finn didn't care about sexy. He liked his girls real, and Puck suspected he was going to feel the same way about guys. This guy, anyway.

"Is that okay?" He realized Finn was still standing there waiting for an answer, fully clothed and hard as a rock, looking and sounding a little less certain about all of it. Puck nodded emphatically, climbing off the bed to grasp Finn's biceps in his hands.

"Whatever you want is okay," he insisted, as gently as he could with Finn trembling there before him. "I just want to know."

It was impossible not to kiss him, then, and the idea seemed to be mutual. The way they came together was a little rough and desperate. It wasn't easy or slow, like it had been in the shower, and it took Puck a few moments to decide it had something to do with how much skin he was able to touch.

"I'm not completely sure I'll be able to resist coming over here to do this in the middle of things," he said. "But I'll definitely give it a try. Unless you, you know, want to tie me up or something."

Finn looked completely baffled by this idea. "How would you jerk off if you were tied up?"

It made Puck grin, feeling absurdly sentimental. God, he was sweet. "I'm just saying. My self-control's going to be pretty limited."

"Well, I guess I figured at some point I'd come over and, um, join you. On the bed." He made a little squeaking noise as Puck's hands came down to grip his ass, and his eyes fell closed. "That... gives me all kinds of ideas that I don't know what to do with."

"No hurry." Puck kissed his neck once more before disengaging and returning to sit on the edge of the bed, facing Finn. He made himself go slowly, stripping off his t-shirt, listening to each hitching breath, feeling his eyes watching every movement. "Yeah, this is hotter, with you watching."

"That's good." Finn swallowed, taking off his own shirt and tossing it on the floor. He perched on the edge of the chair, one hand clutching himself through his jeans, not really rubbing, just waiting. "I'm, just, I'm gonna take off my clothes, if that's okay."

Puck slid his jeans over his hips, kicking them to the side, followed by his socks, because just socks weren't sexy to anybody. "Whatever you want," he repeated. He felt a little dizzy, settling down there on the bed, propped up against the wall with his legs splayed open for Finn to watch.  _Definitely hotter,_  he thought, wrapping one hand around his cock. When Finn's eyes widened, he propped his knees up, and only hesitated a moment before reaching for the hand lotion next to the bed.

"Oh, fuck," Finn whispered. He sounded a little frantic.

"It's okay, man," Puck said, not pausing in his actions. "Don't freak out. You can want it."

"No, I'm -" He laughed shakily, working the zipper down on his jeans. "I'm gonna come in my pants."

It was a little astonishing, really, to watch Finn's hair trigger in action. Puck didn't really have a leg to stand on himself, considering he'd taken about thirty seconds that afternoon in the shower. Finn managed to get his cock out of his underwear before he shot his load, his fingers barely stroking the length of the underside.

"Hot," Puck got out, his eyes fixed on Finn's loose grip, the sticky stripes of white jizz on the back of his hand. "Um, tissues on the desk..."

"Just keep going," Finn said. "I'm - I'm definitely not done here."

And  _that_  was hot, to think of Finn waiting out his absurdly short refractory period to do it all again, watching him. He whimpered, scooting down further on the bed, making sure he still had a good view of Finn struggling out of his briefs. Finn's erection wasn't going away, but he wasn't touching it, either.

Puck squeezed a little lotion out onto his hands, working it into his cock, but when his fingers of his other hand dropped down to rest between his thighs, Finn groaned. He was naked now, slouched back in his chair. His own fingers were resting right on that muscle underneath his balls, massaging it with a rhythm that was unmistakably from long practice.  _I'm watching Finn Hudson get himself off,_  he thought, with a rush of gratitude.

"So I guess I like buttfucking as much as the next guy," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I don't think that makes me gay. And this is not a suggestion, exactly, but I think... I want you to be ready for me to, um. Want that."

"Okay." Finn didn't sound too freaked out, or disgusted. He definitely wasn't looking away as Puck worked a slick finger inside himself, taking it slowly. "It feels good? I mean, of course it feels good, you wouldn't just be doing that for me or anything. Right?"

"Definitely - not just for you," Puck gasped. He got another bit of lotion and circled his hole with the pads of his fingers. "But you sitting there makes me want it more."

"You want my fingers, like that?"

He stroked himself faster, every familiar movement made a little more intense than usual, knowing Finn was watching him.  _For the first time, but not likely to be the last._ "Yeah, god, Finn, I totally want your fingers."

"Right now?"

Puck looked over at Finn, sitting there sprawled in his desk chair. His cock was bobbing in the air, largely untouched, while his fingers dug into his perineum. "If you want to do that to me, I'm sure as shit not going to say no. But I think you wanted to watch me."

Finn's nod was quick, and he licked his lips. "Yeah. I want to see - um. That."

He spread himself open a little wider, pulling his legs back, and reveled in the sound of Finn moaning as he added a second finger.

"I bet you'd like it too," Puck said.

"I think - maybe, yeah?" Finn wasn't stopping what he was doing, but his other hand, which had been resting at the base of his cock, gave it a squeeze. "Maybe you'd like to show me sometime?"

It was all too much for Puck's overstimulated senses, and he sped up his strokes further as he fucked himself there in front of Finn. When he came, it was impossible to avoid saying Finn's name, and Finn's eyes snapped up to meet his, looking startled.

"You want to fuck me, Puck?" he said. He was stroking in earnest now, both hands engaged.

"Holy shit, yes." It was easier to say in the midst of everything, because he knew just about anything he said would be a turn-on just before he came. "Almost as much as I want you to fuck me."

"Oh,  _fuck,_ " moaned Finn, bucking up into his own fist, pressing hard against the pulsing muscle. It was pretty dry, but a third orgasm in six hours was bound to be something less than spectacular. Puck watched him greedily, milking the last sensation out of his own cock, then slumped back against the bed in exhaustion.

"Hope that doesn't freak you out," he added.

Finn was panting hard, his eyes closed and head back. "I said I'd try anything with you, man. If you're letting me... drive, you'll have to let me take it at my pace." He struggled to raise his head high enough to make eye contact. "But, seriously, I don't think you're going to have to wait very long."

"Cool." He reached out one hand. "Now get the fuck over here, before I pass out."

Finn didn't feel anything like a girl in bed. He was big and heavy and awkward, all limbs and joints and hair everywhere. Puck didn't care. He just pulled Finn down on top of him, holding on.

"That was so freaking hot," he mumbled. He felt Finn's nod against his cheek.

"Is this the part where I tell you I want to do this again? Or am I supposed to wait until you call me, or what? I don't know any of the rules anymore."

Puck kissed Finn firmly. "We don't have any rules. And I totally want to do this again. Maybe not tonight."

Finn laughed, shifting so he was lying next to Puck, one leg and one arm slung over his body, which was heavy enough - god, he was really big all over, wasn't he? "No, not tonight. I think I'm done for tonight. Wake me up in fifteen minutes?"

Puck set an alarm on his phone, then pulled the sheet up over them both before closing his eyes. His whole body was thrumming contentment. "That sounds just about perfect."

"Mmmm." Finn's voice was barely audible. "Love you."

He'd been right on the edge of sleep, but those words drove Puck back into consciousness. He held his breath for several seconds until Finn's breath evened out into gentle snores, the unspoken response on his lips.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Awkward Dinner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/811358) by [CA_Babs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CA_Babs/pseuds/CA_Babs)




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